Hear No Evil, See No Evil, Speak No Evil
by Time Traverser
Summary: England needs help. Harry Potter has been lucky so far, but the Boy Who Lived is going into his third year, and threats loom on the horizon. Watch as the Golden Trio gets help from a shy Canadian, a reluctant American, and an odd Englishman. Takes place in the third year, rated T. NO ROMANCE!
1. Chapter 1

Canada, was with America at his Virginia home. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, the wind whistled softly through the trees, and England was bickering with his host.

"It's true, magic is real."

"No it ain't!"

"Yes, it is."

"Nope!"

Canada sighed from tan couch and pinched the bridge of his nose to ward off the inevitable headache. They were arguing _again_. Not only were they arguing, but they were arguing about a subject he felt was long exhausted.

"How can you refute the evidence _right in front of you_?" England demanded, waving a thin wooden stick in front of America's face.

The taller nation pushed the stick away in annoyance and smirked, "Like this!" He squeezed his eyes shut, stuck his fingers in his ears, and turned his back on England singing, "La, la, la! I can't hear you! See no weird, hear no weird, _speak no weird!_" He walked out the door, into the hall.

"But you _have_ a magic school! In Massachusetts!" England yelled exasperatedly, "I saw it on the way here from the plane!" He gestured at the air wildly.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" America yelled back from his kitchen, his voice reverberating throughout the house. One could hear the faint sound of the refrigerator opening.

England plopped down on the couch next to Canada and put his head in his hands, "Is he just in denial?"

Canada shrugged, fiddling with his hoodie and staring into the empty fireplace in front of him, "I'm not sure. But I've seen enough in my lifetime to believe you."

"Could you talk some sense into the boy?" England pleaded urgently, "I need _both_ of you to believe!"

"Why?" Canada asked, alarmed at hearing such a distraught tone.

England leaned back on the couch, "I have something to ask of you two. I'll tell you when that stubborn yankee gets back."

Canada studied England closely from his seat. The elder nation looked...almost sick. It wasn't really anything apparently wrong with him physically, but the way his shoulders sagged, and how he glared at every shadow as if afraid it would eat him...something was wrong. If only Canada knew _what_.

America came back into the room, a can of Cola in hand. He held out a second one, "Anyone want one?"

England waved it off dismissively, "Your soda is much too sweet for me."

Canada accepted the second can with a nod. He cracked it open and waited.

America sat in a recliner to the left of the couch, "So," he asked, draping one leg over the other, "did you come here just to argue, or do you have another reason for your visit?"

England took a deep breath, "I need you two to enroll at Hogwarts, and keep an eye on a young boy named Harry Potter."

"Who's that?" Canada asked curiously.

"Where's that?" America asked at the same time.

"It's a school, for witches and wizards." England stated almost proudly.

"Dude, did you miss that _entire conversation_ we just had like, five minutes ago? Magic still isn't real."

Canada and quickly decided to stop the argument before it could restart, "England, would you mind giving America and I a moment of privacy? I need to speak to him privately.

England looked mutinous for a moment, but he inclined his head. America sighed and got up from his seat, following Canada into the kitchen.

"Wassup?" America asked casually.

Canada folded his arms, "Have you _seen_ how England has been acting lately?"

America frowned and threw his empty can into the trash bin, "Yeah-"

Canada cut him off pointing a thumb back to the living room, "Don't you think you could humor him? Just for now? He obviously needs help." Canada then pointed at his brother, "So do you."

America cocked his head to the side suspiciously, "What do you mean?"

"I _mean _that you're in denial, and this is the best way to snap you out of it." Canada shot back irritatedly.

America narrowed his eyes for a moment. He then moved to place his hand on Canada's forehead, "Are you running a fever...?"

Canada smacked America's hand away, "Stop it! I _know_ you're not that stupid, so stop playing at it! You've seen _plenty_ of magic. You've seen it performed _right in front of you_! We are going to help England if I have to drag you kicking and screaming!" Canada huffed and fell silent with clenched fists, waiting for an answer.

America was quiet, the gears evidently turning in his head. He grimaced, "Fine, but you _owe_ me."

The blue eyed nation turned on his heel and stalked back to the living room. He composed himself and plastered an easy smile on his face as he entered the room and sat back in the recliner, "Alright then! Let's do this thing!"

England looked like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, "Really? Oh, wonderful!" He stood up, and paced the fireplace, "Alright then. We go to Diagon Alley next week. You two," he pointed at both Nations, "must meet at my house by Friday. We'll hammer out the details then." He had a smile on his face as he pulled out the stick from before, "I will see you both then!" There was a rush of wind and a flash of light, and the green eyed nation was gone, leaving only stray papers from the wind.

Canada turned toward his wide eyed brother, "How would you rationally explain _that _one away? Oh, mighty not-superstitious one?

America placed a finger on his chin, "Um...crop circles?"

Canada facepalmed.

* * *

**And so, by popular demand, Harry Potter and Hetalia! I'll admit, it's been a while since I've read any of the books, so I'll mostly go by the movies. I hope you don't mind! **

**Look out for the next chapter! I always finish my stories. What do you think so far?**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	2. Chapter 2

"We're here!" Canada said to the seemingly empty house. His voice echoed slightly as it bounced against the green wallpapered walls.

America shouldered in past his brother, "Come on, Iggy dude! Let's get this party started and over with!"

Canada shut the front door as America immediately made himself at home by sitting in England's favorite armchair and kicking his feet up on the mahogany coffee table. The northernmost Nation shook his head, "You _know_ that irritates him."

America shrugged and gave a mischievous smile, "You _know_ I don't care." He looked around, "I wonder where he's gone?"

"How much do you want to bet he's in his basement?" Canada asked, sitting himself down on the ornate floral sofa.

Alfred rolled his eyes, "How 'bout you go check? I ain't settin' foot down there on my life."

Whatever response Canada had never came, for he was interrupted by a loud _THUMP!_ and a string of muffled curses. The brothers glanced at each other. Canada raised an eyebrow. The blue eyed Nation shook his head violently, "Nope, I'm still not going down there."

Canada glared at his brother, "Oh, come on! You're telling me that you can win a staring contest with _Russia_ of all people, but you're afraid of going into England's _basement_?"

The conversation was interrupted again, but this time it was England yelling, "Both of you get down here! I have something to show you!"

Canada smiled triumphantly. He stood up, beckoned to his reluctant brother, and made his way down the carpeted hall and towards the stone staircase that would lead to down to the basement.

America grumbled and shoved his hands into his pockets as he followed Canada.

"You're an ass." America stated with finality as they made their way down the steps.

"You're a chicken shit." Canada shot back. He opened the old wooden door to the basement, "Don't worry, I'll protect you oh, mighty superpower."

The two made found themselves in a large, darkened stone room. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with all sorts of odds and ends between old volumes. A cluttered worktable was pushed into a corner and a large glowing pentacle on the floor dominated the center of the room.

"Ah, good. You two are here!" England smiled. He ushered the twins towards the ominous glowing circle in the of the floor, "Stand here, please."

America sent a withering glare at the offending object, "Are you sure about this?" He wasn't ready to trust such things.

Canada sighed and pulled America into the circle with him, "If he was going to hurt you, he would've tried it already."

England nodded as he flipped through the yellowed pages of a tattered spell book, "Right, now stop being a git." He called out, "Illusio iuventutis tempore!" There was a flash of blue light, and the room fell dark.

"I feel...different." Canada said worriedly. He jumped, his voice sounded different too!

"Ha ha! You sound like a colony!" America made a choking sound, "Urk! So do I!"

England put on a candle, "Yes, I've de-aged you so that you look like fourteen year-olds." England smirked, "Good thing I have some clothing that will fit you." He reached into a trunk against the wall and pulled out spare jeans and t-shirts.

America took his shirt and read it, "Keep Calm and Carry On? Really dude?"

Canada's shirt was thankfully an unmarked green. He shed his old clothes, now much too big, and hurriedly dressed in the adolescent sized outfit. America scowled, but did the same. England clapped his hands together, "Alright! Come now lads, we are off to get school supplies!" He lead the way back into the living room, but instead of going to the front door, he turned toward the fireplace.

Canada cocked his head to the side, "What are we doing?"

England looked down at the de-aged Canada, secretly relishing the very fact that he wasn't shorter than them anymore, "I've already told you, we are getting school supplies!"

America frowned, "Through the fireplace?"

"You don't really expect us to take the car to Diagon Alley now, do you?" England asked mysteriously, thoroughly enjoying the twins' confusion. He pulled out a small sack of powder, seemingly from nowhere.

"What's that?" Canada asked curiously.

"Floo powder. This will allow us to get there the quickest." He held the bag out to Canada first, "What I want you to do, is to take a fistful of that, step into the fireplace, and yell out 'Diagon Alley!' Then, throw the dust on the ground, and you will find yourself at the very place you've named. Stay where you are, and we will join you momentarily."

Canada took a bit of powder, and did exactly as England said. He disappeared in a sudden blast of green fire. America reared on England, "What just happened? What did you do?!"

England held out the bag, "He's fine! Now stop being a stubborn git and do as I say!" He waited.

America grimaced and forced himself to take some powder. He stepped into the fireplace and stated, "For the record, I don't like _any_ of this. It just doesn't feel right." He followed Canada's example and disappeared in a similar fashion.

England sighed frustratingly and ran a hand through his hair, "Why is he so...gah!" He grabbed a fist of floo powder and said determinedly, "I'll change his mind yet! Diagon Alley!" He felt a rush of wind, and was gone.

* * *

**Another chapter done, huzzah! No worries, Harry Potter and friends shall be making an appearance soon!**

** Thank you so much for the reviews and everything. It makes me so happy! Tell me what you think about this one?**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	3. Chapter 3

"Can I have the eagle?"

"No, you'll have to settle for the owl."

America huffed and folded his arms, evidently settling into the role of preteen. He eyed the owl in question, "Then I get to name it."

England put a hand to his face and sighed, "Then what _is_ it's name, might I ask?"

"Bruce!" America responded almost happily.

Canada stuck a finger through the cage, only to quickly withdraw it as the bird tried to bite it off. He scowled at it darkly, "Why?"

"Because it's feathers are black, so it reminds me of Batman." America declared as he took the cage from England and started to fawn over it.

The English nation shook his head. At least America wasn't complaining about being there. He turned to Canada, "Would you like an owl, cat, or toad?"

Canada waved the offer off, "I don't need any more pets. I have Kumajiro here." He struggled to hold up the polar bear, that was now much heavier since Canada de-aged.

"Who?" Kumajiro predictably asked.

"Ca-Matthew." Canada said, remembering that he had to go by his human name now.

"Oh?" The bear asked, now confused.

Matthew shook his head.

England paid for Alfred's owl and pulled both boys out of the shop. Arthur surveyed them and their heavy trunks, "Let's see...robes? Check. Potion supplies? Check...oh, don't open that book yet, Alfred!"

"Why not?" Alfred asked, jumping back from it.

"Just wait until class. Remember to stroke the spine." Arthur responded cryptically.

Alfred glared at the book suspiciously, "Alright then." He placed the owl cage on top of his trunk.

"It seems that the only thing left to get is your wands." The englishman stated happily

"Ohhhh," Alfred waggled his fingers sarcastically, "Our _magical_ fairy wands!" He dropped his hands to his sides and followed his companions.

* * *

On the way to the shop, Matthew asked Arthur, "So...what exactly will we be doing?"

Arthur frowned, "You mean I never told you?" He made a left down the crowded street, "You are to go there as students, and keep a close eye on a boy named Harry Potter."

"We're stalking a little boy?" Alfred asked disbelievingly.

"It's not _stalking_, as you so put it!" Arthur snapped. He glanced around to see that no one listened too closely, "Just try and help him. Make sure he survives the school year." Arthur fell silent for a moment, then continued, "I've sent a letter to the headmaster Albus Dumbledore concerning your enrollment. As far as he knows, you are two human brothers named Alfred F. Jones and Matthew Williams. You were raised in North America separately and have recently been reunited and are transferring to Hogwarts to continue your magic studies."

Alfred raised an eyebrow, "We don't _know_ any magic."

Arthur made another left, "I've informed him that you are both in desperate need of tutoring. In his response, he mentioned that there were plenty of student tutors to help you."

"Oh, okay then." Matthew said quietly. England must have made arrangements immediately after they said they would help.

They came upon a shop with a hand painted sign that read, 'OLLIVANDER'S' in large gold lettering, with a smaller sign directly above the door that read, 'Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC.' Alfred looked up at the sign in awe, "Wow, I think he's older than _you_!"

Arthur cocked his head in wonder, "I suppose so." He's never really thought about it, but Ollivander's wands had always just been _there_. He never questioned it before. The englishman shrugged and opened the door, causing a cheery bell to ring throughout the place. He ushered the twins inside and looked around at the endless rows of dusty wand boxes.

"Hello?" Matthew called.

Alfred rang the bell on the front desk a few times. All was silent for a moment longer, when Ollivander himself finally came out. His grey hair and old fashioned clothes were covered in dust, he peered at the trio through his glasses and smiled, "Ah! Arthur my old friend, I haven't seen you in decades! Larch wand with a Unicorn Core at 10 1/4 inches, very hard and unforgiving, wasn't it?" he offered a hand

Arthur smiled back and shook the man's hand vigorously, "Yes, it has been awhile hasn't it?" He pushed the two boys forward towards the desk, "These two are going to need wands."

The elderly man was already heading for the back of the store, "Oh? So these charges of yours are going to Hogwarts, I assume?" he sorted through boxes as he said this. Ollivander came back out with a slender and very dusty black box, "You," he gestured to Matthew, "Try this one."

Matthew came forward, he took the wand from Ollivander and waved it experimentally. Nothing happened, and Alfred raised an eyebrow at Arthur, who shrugged. The wandmaker quickly snatched it from Matthew's hand and mumbled, "Oh, no. That's not quite right."

He came out with another box, opened it, and held it out to the boy, who took it and waved it like he did the last one. There was a flash of bright amber light, and a faint sent of maple whispered through the room on a breeze. The atmosphere suddenly felt calmer. Matthew looked at the wand in his hand in wonder, and Ollivander smiled, "Cypress, with a Unicorn Core at 14 1/2 inches, very flexible."

He turned to Alfred, "Your turn now!" He went to the back area again, and came forth with another dusty old box. He opened it carefully and offered the wand to him. Alfred took the wand and regarded it skeptically in his hand for a moment. He waved it and the glass lampshade on the desk broke, leaving an exposed lightbulb. Alfred put the wand on the desk, clearly not comfortable. Ollivander frowned at the lamp, "Not again!" He took the wand from the desk and put it away, retrieving another box.

Alfred reached for the wand. However, the moment it touched Alfred's palm, it began to emit an earsplitting shrieking sound. Ollivander snatched the wand away, and studied it closely, "That...hasn't happened before." He scratched his messy hair quizzically, "It's like the wand was...in pain." He put the wand to the side and eyed Alfred critically, "I think you were to much for it, boy."

Alfred rubbed the back of his head, "I'm...sorry." He glanced at Arthur, who looked as lost as he felt.

Ollivander took out a third box, "No, matter. This wand should do you well. If not, we will have to take drastic measures." Alfred took this wand, hesitated for a split second, and waved it. There was a whiff of gunsmoke and the room seemed to brighten. Red, white, and blue sparkles sprouted from the wand. Alfred looked at the wand, and for the first time since the trip began, he genuinely smiled.

Ollivander nodded, "Interesting. That wand is Walnut, with a Dragon Core at 13 inches, rigid and unyielding."

Arthur thanked the man, paid for the wands, and they took their leave. He took the twins away from the wand shop, walked a ways, and stopped in front of a brick wall. He tapped the bricks in a pattern and landed them in a tavern. Arthur knelt down to the brothers' level, "Tomorrow we must go to platform 9 and 3/4. There you will catch the train and start your year at Hogwarts. Any questions or comments?"

"What will you be doing while we're at school?" Matthew asked, "You aren't de-aged, so I'm assuming that you won't be coming with us?"

"You're right, I won't be a student. But I'll be there." Arthur answered with a sly smile.

"You are enjoying this _way_ too much, Iggy." Alfred stated, "I have a really bad feeling about this."

* * *

**I decided to do another chapter today. The _next_ chapter will have the Golden Trio in it.**

**I got the wand measurements and qualities from a story called 'Sorting' by alexdemy. I reasoned out the wand effects like this:**

**-Canada, is very quiet by nature. So figured his would be more subtle, and reflect aspects of his country. Maple syrup is among the first things to come to mind when I think Canada so...yeah. He is also very calm, hence the calming atmosphere.**

**-America, is not nearly as calm. He tends to have a positive outlook on life, hence the bright atmosphere. The gunsmoke is because very few countries have weapons in their culture among civilians like we do. Fireworks, for Independence Day.**

**Thanks for the reviews and everything, it's really awesome to see them. Penny for your thoughts?**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	4. Chapter 4

"Do you _hear_ yourself right now?"

"Quite clearly." Arthur responded, not fully understanding Alfred's disapproval.

"You just told us to run through a brick wall." Matthew stated, pointing to the wall in question.

Arthur nodded, "Yes, I did. Off you go now." He made a shooing motion with his hands.

Alfred looked at his brother, who shrugged. "You first, _hero_." the Canadian said, adjusting their trunks on the trolly nonchalantly.

"Fine, be that way." Alfred huffed. He turned to the wall and glared at it defiantly, "Bring it _on_, wall!" and ran straight at it. He disappeared through it.

"Please go after your brother before the fool hurts himself. I'm leaving it to you to keep him out of trouble." Arthur almost pleaded. He straightened his outfit, "I'll be along shortly. I just need to do a few more things." The englishman nodded towards Matthew, and disappeared into the crowds of the train station.

Matthew regarded the brick wall, took a deep breath, and ran straight at it. He barely had time to think, _'Well that was stupid!'_ Before he found himself on the ground of another train station entirely, with his brother holding a hand out to help him up. He grasped his brother's hand and let Alfred haul him up. Matthew surveyed the place.

They were in a train station with a red sign above their heads that read, 'Platform 9 3/4' in black and the words 'Hogwart's Express' right below it, in gold lettering. The people milling about clearly weren't muggles, with their odd headwear and robes. Parents stood on the platform, bidding farewell to their school bound kids as the children piled on to a train with a rather impressive looking steam engine.

Alfred looked around the platform, and then at the train saying, "Damn, that's old school." He picked up the heavy fallen trunks with ease, piled them on the trolly and pointed at the locomotive, "Let's go!" He pushed through the crowd, leaving his brother to trail along behind him.

* * *

"I still think it was brilliant." Ron stated as the trio of friends entered a compartment, "Who do you think that is?"

Hermione sat down. "Professor R.J. Lupin." she stated primly.

Ron's head spun towards her, "Do you know _everything_?"

The girl opened her mouth to respond, "It's on his _bag_-"

"May we please sit here?" a polite voice asked.

A boy with mid-length blond hair and odd purple eyes stood in the doorway. "Could we sit here?" he asked quietly.

Another boy pushed past him, "Come on, bro! Speak up!" He looked a lot like the first, but his hair was shorter and he had bright blue eyes. Not to mention the fact that every aspect of him screamed _American_. He carried a trunk in each hand

Harry, a bit lost for words at the sudden intrusion, moved to make room for them. The quiet one sat between him and Lupin, while the American put the trunks up and got between Hermione and Ron.

"I'm sorry," Hermione started, "but may we ask for your names?"

The shy one looked up at her, "Matthew Williams..."

The loud one grinned widely, "Alfred F. Jones, at your service, Miss." He looked around at everyone, "What're your names?"

"Ronald Weasley, but Ron is fine."

"Hermione Granger, pleased to meet you."

"Harry, Harry Potter."

All three waited for a reaction to such a well known name, but it wasn't what they were expecting. Alfred's expression didn't change, "Hi!"

Matthew just inclined his head politely, "Hello."

Harry let go of a tension he wasn't aware he had, "Erm...alright then." He had honestly grown used to his fame. He was confused, and a little relieved at the same time. He was glad that he had met people that wouldn't immediately judge him for his past deeds.

Hermione hummed thoughtfully as she studied the two closely, "Hmmm. You look like near twins. Are you brothers?"

Alfred nodded eagerly, "Yep! That's my bro, Mattie!"

Matthew gave a shy smile, "Please excuse his rambunctious behavior. I promise that it doesn't run in the family."

Alfred reached over and punched him lightly in the shoulder, "You _wish_ it ran in the family."

Ron snickered, and Harry smiled a little. He could get to like these two.

Hermione worked to bring the conversation back on track, "Why do you have different last names?"

The brothers looked at each other. "Uh, yes! Why don't you tell them, Alfred?" Matthew asked as casually as possible.

Alfred scowled at his twin briefly, but it was gone as quickly as it came. "We were raised separately, by two different people in two different countries. We reunited in a long, sappy story that we'd rather not get into."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, but pressed no further.

"Are you muggleborns?" Ron asked suddenly.

"...Yes" Matthew said. He cocked his head, "How'd you come to that conclusion?"

"You didn't know who he is." Ron said, pointing at Harry. "Not even a twitch from either of you!"

"Ron!" Hermione scolded.

"Oh? Are you famous?" Alfred asked Harry curiously.

Harry inwardly sighed, for he was enjoying the anonymity."Well..." He started.

"He's only the most famous wizard _ever_!" Ron praised, ignoring the looks of dread from his comrades. He continued, "He defeated the dark lord, multiple times!"

Neither brother looked incredibly impressed. "Dark Lord?" Matthew asked drolly.

"Wow, what a cliched title." Alfred muttered. He smirked, "And does this 'Dark Lord' have a name?"

"Voldemort." Harry stated, knowing full well that...

_"Don't say his name!_" Hermione hissed.

...someone would do that.

"Whatever." Alfred said dismissively, "Ya beat this Moldyshorts guy before, then you can do it again, kid."

Harry coughed to hide a snicker. Moldyshorts? He had to remember that one. Hermione leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms, while Ron watched the whole scene in utter confusion. Professor Lupin's sleeping form didn't move.

The loud screech of the Hogwarts Express's brakes stopped all conversation.

"We're there already?" Matthew asked.

"No, it couldn't be!" Hermione responded.

The temperature rapidly dropped enough for frost to form on the glass. Silence reigned as students waited with bated breath. A bony, skeletal hand appeared to pull the latch open from the inside of the compartment. A terrible, hooded figure eerily floated towards the group.

Harry blacked out.

* * *

**Another chapter is done, and the golden trio has made it's appearance. Stay tuned, and Malfoy will too at some point!**

**Thanks for all the reviews, follows, and favs. It's gives me great pleasure to see people enjoying these stories.**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	5. Chapter 5

Harry woke to see a piece of chocolate being held in front of his nose.

"Eat this, it'll help."

Harry accepted the sweet and looked around the compartment. Hermione and Ron looked alarmed, but unhurt. Alfred and Matthew though, were another matter. Matthew was sitting ramrod straight in his seat, with a tense, white knuckled grip on his knees. His purple eyes were open, but unseeing, even as Ron waved a hand in front of his face. Alfred had fallen out of his seat. He was twitching on the floor and muttering nonsensical things to himself.

"What was that?" Harry asked as he shakily gathered his thoughts.

"That was a Dementor. One of the Azkaban prison guards. They were searching the train for Sirius Black." Professor Lupin said as he rifled through his bag.

"Someone was screaming." Harry insisted, "A woman."

"No one was screaming, Harry." Hermione replied, face showing clear worry. "What about them?" She asked, glancing at the twins.

Lupin frowned, "These two _should_ be fine. But if the Canadian starts foaming at the mouth, call me immediately." He pulled out another chocolate bar, "Split this between them when they wake up." He stood up, "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go have a little word with the driver." The compartment door closed behind him.

A moment later, Matthew woke up screaming at the top of his lungs, _"That doesn't _help_, America!" _He covered his mouth and looked around, looking like death had warmed over.

Ron wordlessly handed him a piece of chocolate, that Matthew munched on gratefully as he watched his brother convulse on the floor. "Will he be alright?" the boy asked.

"That's what Lupin said." Hermione responded, "What was that about the America and helping?"

"Oh...um...nothing. That's long past now." Matthew responded quietly.

_"I can't see!"_ Alfred gasped. He sat up and looked around wildly. His eyes rested on his twin, "C-" He remembered where he was and forced himself to calm down, "Mattie, are...are you alright?" He accepted the other half of the chocolate bar from Ron and sat himself back in his seat.

"Better than you are." Matthew responded solemnly.

Alfred looked down, "Sorry, that was...nothing. It was a long time ago."

"How many fingers am I holding up?" Harry asked suddenly.

Alfred raised an eyebrow, "Four. I'm not blind you know."

"Just making sure." Harry said, looking out the window at the stormy weather.

* * *

"Where did they go, aren't they third years?" Ron asked on the way to the Great Hall.

"I believe they're going with the first years to get sorted." Hermione answered.

"I can bet on where Alfred will be." Ron grinned.

Harry said nothing as they seated themselves the Gryffindor table, and waited for sorting to begin. Like every year, the sorting hat was seated upon the stool and it sung it's song. First years' expressions varied between excited, smug, and utterly terrified. Fred and George Weasley placed bets on who would be where.

"That one there'll be Hufflepuff for sure." George said, pointing at Matthew.

"He's a bit old for a first year, isn't he?" Fred laughed.

"And he's a matched set!" George responded, indicating Alfred.

_"Be quiet!"_ Percy Weasley shushed.

"When I call your name, please step up to be sorted." Professor Mcgonagall announced as she unrolled a list of names. She called the names in alphabetical order, as usual. Kids came up one by one and got sorted.

Oddly enough though, Alfred and Matthew were left for last. Harry wondered why.

"Awful lot of Slytherins this year..." Neville Longbottom shuddered.

The headmaster himself, Albus Dumbledore, came up to the podium. His blue eyes twinkling behind half moon spectacles, as usual. The hall fell completely silent at his signal.

"I'd like to make a few announcements." He stated, "We have two exchange students here from North America entering the third year, who need to be sorted." He looked directly at Alfred, "If you please, Mr. Jones?"

* * *

"Do I _have_ to?" Alfred whined to his brother. He didn't like the idea of a clothing accessory looking in his head. The ghosts were bad enough!

Matthew said nothing, but squeezed his arm reassuringly. Thus comforted, Alfred approached the sorting hat cautiously. He nodded to the headmaster and Mcgonagall respectfully and slide onto the stool.

_"Well aren't you an interesting one aren't you, America?"_ the sorting hat mused.

_"This...feels unnatural."_ Alfred thought, unable to sensor his own thoughts.

The hat chuckled ruefully, _"You're not only referring to myself, are you?"_

_"No, I suppose not."_ Alfred responded.

_"This will be the best place for you to come to terms with magic."_ the old hat said, _"You have much potential, but you will only succeed if you accept, boy. I have made my decision."_

"Gryffindor!" The hat decided out loud.

Alfred grinned at the cheers from his peers, and ran to seat himself next to Harry.

"Matthew Williams?" Mcgonagall called.

Matthew walked up to the stool, crossing his fingers.

_"Hello, Canada."_

_"Eh...hello?"_ Matthew thought wittily.

The hat hummed to itself, _"Hmmm. Where will I put you? You would make a good Hufflepuff..."_

_"I hear a 'but.'"_ Matthew pressed.

_"But, you have more than enough bravery, and you have much to do."_ the hat said.

_"What?-"_

"Gryffindor!"

Matthew sighed in relief, hopped off the stool, and joined his brother, who cheered the loudest.

* * *

**'Nother chapter done, and I'm writing the next one as you read this, so no fear.**

**Thanks for all the attention this has gotten so far, it's really awesome of you guys.**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	6. Chapter 6

Dumbledore called for quiet once more, "Furthermore, I would like to welcome two new teachers to Hogwarts. Professor Remus Lupin, will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, this year."

There was applause as Professor Lupin stood up briefly to take a bow.

"Meanwhile," Dumbledore continued, "Professor Binns has informed me that he will be taking a long needed vacation. So, Professor Kirkland, will be taking over as your History of Magic teacher. Good luck to both!"

A young looking man in emerald robes with messy blond hair and green eyes stood up and also bowed, spurring more applause, but not everyone praised the new teacher.

"Oh, _god_." Alfred practically sobbed as his head hit the table.

"What is it?" Harry asked, surprised at his reaction.

Matthew snickered, "That's _just_ like him. How could I expect anything less?"

"What's so funny?" Ron demanded, hating being left out of the loop.

Alfred began to repeatedly bang his head on the table, making the silverware rattle, "Crap." _BANG!_ "Crap." _BANG!_ "Crap." _BANG!_ "Crap..."

"Professor Kirkland raised him like a son." Matthew supplied, "They had a...falling out."

Alfred stopped abusing his forehead and glared pitifully up at the teacher's table."He is _so_ going to fail me, just to spite me. I know it." he lamented dramatically.

"A teacher should never put his private life in the way of his duty!" Hermione said, horrified at the very idea.

"Potter!"A voice hissed, "_Psst!_ Potter!"

Him and Ron turned around to face the table behind them. Malfoy was there, sitting between his goons and smirking.

"Is it true you fainted?" Malfoy sneered as Crabbe mocked him, "I mean you _actually_ fainted?"

"Shut up _Malfoy_." Ron snarled.

"Just forget him." Hermione advised as they turned their backs on him and listened to the headmaster.

"...he has decided to retire, in order to spend more time with his remaining limbs. Fortunately, I am delighted to announce, his position shall be taken over by none other than our very own, Rubeus Hagrid."

The half giant stood up bashfully, making the teacher's table move and tipping their thankfully empty goblets over. Cheers came from all around for the groundskeeper turned teacher.

"On to more serious matters." Dumbledore's easy smile became a frown, "At the request of the Ministry of Magic, Hogwarts will be playing host for the Dementors of Azkaban..."

The hall broke out into mutters, and Harry grimaced. Alfred and Matthew both became very interested in their empty plates.

The headmaster droned on, "...until such a time, that Sirius Black is captured. The Dementors will be stationed at every entrance to the grounds, and although I have been assured that their presence would not interfere with our day to day activities, a word of warning." He gave the entire student body an intense look, "Dementors are vicious creatures. They will not distinguish between their target, and the one who gets in their way. Therefore, I must tell each and every one of you, to not give them a reason to harm you. It is not in the nature of a Dementor to be forgiving."

He raised a finger, "But remember, that happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times. If one simply remembers, to turn on the light." He waved his hand, and a candle flickered to life. He clapped his hands, and a great feast spread before them, "Now let us eat!"

Ron started to put things on his plate the moment they came into existence. He tucked in ravenously, and then looked at Alfred and Matthew, who had made no move to eat.

"Aren't you hungry?" he asked.

Alfred looked at the mashed potatoes skeptically, "Yeah, but..."

"But what?" Hermione pressed.

Matthew poked at the turkey experimentally, "It looks fine to me, Al."

"Are you sure?" Alfred inquired, "I usually wouldn't eat anything that appeared out of midair." He grimaced, "Not to mention that it's _English_ food."

"It's fine, I promise." Harry reassured them, "The house elves are great cooks."

"What the hell is a house elf?" Alfred asked.

"You don't have them in America?" Hermione asked.

Alfred frowned, "Last I checked...no."

Matthew ate a biscuit, regarded the pastry, and shrugged. He tapped his twin's shoulder, "It's fine, now eat. Besides, you'll have to get used to things magically appearing while you're here."

"I know." Alfred muttered, so that no one would hear, "That's what I'm worried about." But, Matthew seemed to be enjoying himself, and Alfred didn't want to take that away from him. He piled food on his plate, and began to eat.

* * *

**See? Another chapter. On the same day. Huzzah! Oh, and I got Dumbledore's speech from the movie. I needed him to say _something_, and I can't improve upon perfection.**

**Thanks for all the reviews and such, I'm so grateful that there are those that wish to hear this story.**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	7. Chapter 7

"Is that a polar bear?" Neville asked nervously as he observed the mammal presiding on Matthew's bed.

"Oh, that's Kumajiro. Don't worry, he doesn't bite." the Canadian reassured as he began to idly pet the bear.

"Total lie. It's favorite pass time is to try and bite my fingers off." Alfred said casually. He plopped onto the bed with his trunk, and surveyed the cozy dorm room's red and gold decor. "Alright," he admitted, "This is pretty cool."

"You know he wouldn't bite you if you didn't try to take his food." Matthew commented.

"Yeah, yeah." Alfred said dismissively. He began to rummage through his trunk, and pulled out an old bomber jacket.

"Why do you have that?" Harry asked curiously.

"I'm going to put this over the stupid pajamas I'm being forced wear for the next several months." Alfred responded as he draped it over his bedstead.

Ron gave a short bark of laughter at Alfred's opinion of the school robes. He searched his trunk, looking for some underwear he was hoping he hadn't forgotten. He pulled some books and parchment out of his trunk, and paused when his hand found a bag of magic candies he had forgotten about. He grinned deviously, "Hey, Seamus?"

* * *

Arthur gave a contented smile as he made his way to his new quarters. "Welcome back, Mr. Kirkland." A painting called as he passed. Arthur smiled and waved back at it. This old castle really hasn't changed much. He was happy to see that even now magic hasn't been changed out by new technologies or war. It was refreshing to see a place so untouched by time. His happy musings were interrupted when he collided with someone going in the opposite direction. He only staggered, but the other figure fell to the ground and landed on flat on his bottom.

"Watch it, you imbecile!" The man snarled.

Arthur was taken aback by the insult, but he could understand such a reaction, given the circumstance. He offered a hand, "My apologies, I was lost in my thoughts."

The disgruntled one rejected his hand and got up on his own, which allowed for further study. He was a man of imposing figure, a few inches taller than Alfred would be if he wasn't de-aged. Mid-length greasy black hair grew from his head and his robes were a severe black. He sneered coldly, "Professor...Kirkland, I presume?"

Arthur bristled. He would not be disrespected by his own citizens! He narrowed his eyes, "Nice to meet you too. Who, might I ask, do I have the..." he sniffed, "_pleasure_ of addressing?"

The man drew himself up arrogantly, "I, am Professor Snape. Head of Slytherin House."

"Ah, yes." Arthur nodded, thoroughly unimpressed, "I've heard some not-so-nice things about you, Severus."

Snape somehow made it possible to look even _more_ coldly pompous, "A word of advice for an unproven professor such as yourself." He leaned over Kirkland, "Don't trust all the rumors you hear, and stay out of my way."

Arthur snorted and pushed past Snape. His voice dripped with sarcasm, "It's good to see my old house being represented _so_ well." He swiftly made his way down the hall, leaving the Slytherin professor behind.

He soon found himself in his new living quarters. The colors were predominantly green and silver, for his house, which was odd since he hadn't told anybody what it was until that greasy git, Snape. Arthur walked across the room and looked into the wardrobe, to see his clothing unpacked already. Interesting indeed.

"Now if only I could have a lesson plan magically appear before me." Arthur sighed to himself and made his way to the adjoining office. He pulled out some parchment, textbooks and a quill and got to work.

* * *

Snape glared at the retreating form of Arthur Kirkland. How dare he act in such a manner to his senior staff member! How that fool ever got into Slytherin carrying on like that, he'd never know. A true snake would be licking his boots to get in his good favor!

But...there was something different about Kirkland, much more than meets the eye. This new professor comes out of _no_where with a letter of recommendation, flawless teaching credentials and two students in tow? Something was wrong, for sure. Severus didn't know what, but he was determined to find out! He stalked off in the opposite direction, going towards his quarters for the night.

* * *

**This chapter is done, and Snape has made his grand debut as a certified d*ck. Another chapter is on the way! **

**Thanks for the support I've gotten with this story, it truly warms my heart. **

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	8. Chapter 8

"What's our first class, Mattie?" Alfred asked as they made their way towards the North Tower.

"Don't you have your schedule?" Harry asked.

"Nah, I left that thing in the dorm. Y'all should be happy I even remembered my book!" Alfred stated almost happily.

Matthew sighed, "Good thing you have all the same classes as me, we've got Divinations first."

* * *

"In this room," Professor Trelawney said dramatically, "you shall learn the noble art of divination!"

Alfred snorted quietly and Matthew punched him lightly on the arm.

"In this room," she continued, rising from her chair, "you shall discover if you have the _Sight-_" she bumped her knee on the low table in front of her, much to the amusement of the class. She straightened, "I am Professor Trelawney, and together we shall cast ourselves into the future!"

She faced the congregation, "This term we shall be focusing on the art of reading tea leaves. So if you will please take the cup of the person sitting _opposite_ you?"

Harry took Ron's teacup and Ron did the same for Harry as she went on. The moment they turned their attention back to their surroundings, they heard Hermione say, "What a load of rubbish!"

"See? I'm not the only one." Alfred stated as he and his brother exchanged teacups.

"Where did you come from?" Ron demanded.

"Me?" Hermione asked innocently, "I've been here all this time!" She placed her book on the table and adjusted her robes.

Trelawney spin towards Neville and pointed"You boy! Is your grandmother quite well?"

The boy gave a puzzled look, "I-I think so."

"Don't be so sure of that! Give me the cup." The professor swiped the cup from his partner and glanced inside of it, "Hm, pity." She placed it back on the table and Neville looked at it worriedly.

"What's that gypsy on?" Alfred asked quietly.

Matthew shushed him, "Shut up, and pay attention!"

Unfortunately, the professor heard this. She stepped to the twins' table to scold them, but stopped, cocking her head to the side, "Odd...give me the cup." She snatched Matthew's teacup from Alfred, "What's this? I see...pain, joy, anger, friendship, revenge...what turmoil!" She gave the cup back to Alfred and took the cup from Matthew. She looked into it, frowned, and put it on the table. She turned away, muttering,"What _are_ you?"

Hermione scoffed, "See? Even _she_ can't read them. It's complete nonsense!"

Trelawney turned towards the girl's voice and gasped as her eyes rested on Ron, "Your aura is pulsing dear. Are you in the beyond? I think you are!"

"Eh, sure!" Ron said, nodding nervously.

"Look at the cup, tell me what you see." Trelawney insisted

Ron opened his textbook and flipped a few pages, "Well, he's got kind of a monkey cross and that's trials and suffering...and down there could be the sun, and that's happiness." He turned to Harry So...your going to suffer, but your going to be...happy about it." He shrugged and frowned at the cup skeptically while Hermione smirked and rolled her eyes.

"Give me the cup..." she said as she reached for it. She quickly dropped it and backed away, exclaiming fearfully, "My dear...you have...the G_rim_."

"What's the Grim?" Alfred asked out loud.

Matthew frowned and flipped through his book. He found a passage and read, "The Grim, it takes the form of a giant spectral dog. It is among the darkest omens of our world." Matthew gulped as he read the last part, "It's an omen of death."

Harry looked into the unassuming teacup, remembering the black dog he had seen on Privet Drive...

* * *

Transfigurations was the next class. As usual, Professor Mcgonogall started the year on a high note, lots and lots of notes. Matthew caught on rather quickly, but Alfred was another matter. He just couldn't get the mouse to turn into a snuff box.

"Waving your wand like that isn't going to make that rat do anything, Jones." the Professor stated. She sighed, "I'm assigning you to tutoring with Miss Granger until you can keep up with the rest of the class."

Alfred pouted and Ron patted his shoulder comfortingly.

After class, Harry asked Mcgonogall privately about Professor's Trelawney's worrying prediction. Mcgonogall shook her head exasperatedly, "Then you should know, Potter, that Sybill Trelawney has predicted the death of one student a year since she arrived at this school, and none of them has died yet. Seeing death omens is her favorite way of greeting a new class."

Thus reassured, Harry joined his friends on the way to the lesson he was looking forward to most. Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid.

* * *

"You don't think that grim thing has anything to do with Sirius Black, do you?" Ron asked as the five students made their way towards Hagrid's cottage.

The bell tolled ominously in the distance and Hermione tossed her head back, "Oh, please. If you ask me, Divination is a very questionable discipline."

"Yeah, and she's a total nut case." Alfred agreed, adjusting the green book in his hands carefully.

Matthew adjusted his robes, "It certainly _was_ entertaining though..."

Alfred nodded thoughtfully, "I guess it was a fun way to start out the year."

"Fun?" Hermione scoffed, "If you want fun, go to Ancient Runes class. Now _that_ was interesting."

"How many classes are you _taking_ this year?" Harry asked.

Ron paused mid-step, "Wait...how can you be in Ancient Runes class? It was at the same time as Divinations! You'd have to be in two classes at once!"

"Don't be silly, Ron." Hermione chided as she passed him, "How can anyone be in two places at once?"

* * *

"Alright everyone, gather 'round!" Hagrid the half giant said. "I've got a real treat for you today, a great lesson!" He nodded, "Follow me!"

He lead the class through a wooded area, and into a clearing with some stable type structures off to the side. "Alright you lot, less chattering." Hagrid pointed towards a large tree, "Form a group over there 'n open your books to page 49!"

"And how exactly do we do that?" Draco Malfoy demanded, holding his book by the belt and away from him.

"Just stroke the spine, of course." Hagrid responded as if it were obvious. He turned and stomped off towards the stables.

"Stroke the spine. To appease the book. So _that's_ what he meant." Alfred said to himself, doing as instructed. He looked up to see that Malfoy kid and his cronies were complaining about the school.

"Oh, yes. Very witty! _God_, this place has gone to the dogs." Malfoy scowled, "Wait until my father hears about Dumbledore letting this _oaf_ teach classes."

Harry stepped towards Malfoy, angry that he would say such things about a Hagrid, "Shut up, Malfoy."

"Ooooh." Malfoy handed a crony his bag, sauntered up to Harry, and looked over the Gryffindor's shoulder. A look of fear came over his face, he jumped back, "Dementors, Dementors!"

Most of the Gryffindors looked back fearfully, causing raucous laughter from the Slytherins.

Alfred stepped forward, "Leave them alone!"

Malfoy scowled at the American, "How dare you! I'll have you expelled before you can say, 'I'm sorry!'"

Alfred was about ready to lay into the arrogant boy, but he felt the restraining hand of his brother who shook his head slightly. "No, Al. Not here, not now." Matthew whispered.

Alfred sent a murderous glare at the Slytherins. "Later, then." he promised.

Hagrid cleared his throat, getting the class's attention. He imitated a trumpet flourish, "Da, da-da-da!" He gestured to the thing behind him.

It was a majestic creature that looked to be an odd cross between a horse and an eagle. It made a birdlike noise and pawed the ground.

"Isn't he beautiful?" Hagrid fawned as he tossed a raw fish at it, that it caught and swallowed whole. The half giant smiled, "Say hello to Buckbeak!"

"What _is_ that?" Ron asked, in awe.

"That, Ron, is a Hippogriff." Hagrid stated, "The first thing you'll want to know about Hippogriffs, is that they're very _proud_ creatures, and _very_ easily offended." "You do _not_ want to insult a Hippogriff. It may just be the last thing you ever do" He emphasized. He then smiled genially and rubbed his hand together, "Now, who wants to come and say hello?..."

The entire class backed away, except for Harry, who didn't realize they were supposed to back away.

"Well done Harry, well done!" Hagrid exclaimed.

Matthew reached forward from the group and spurred Harry forward. The Gryffindor student stepped towards the creature a few steps.

"You have to let _him_, make the first move." Hagrid instructed, "Be polite, take a step back, bow, and wait to see if he bows back. If he does, you can go and touch him. If not...well, we'll get to that later. Now make your bow."

Harry bowed slowly, as low as he could. Buckbeak squawked and flapped his wings a couple times.

"Back off, Harry!" Hagrid urged, "Back off!"

Harry stepped back, accidently snapping a twig. He froze, waiting. Buckbeak closed his wings, and gracefully bowed back.

"Well done, Harry!" Hagrid praised, as he threw another fish to Buckbeak. "You can go and pat him now. Nice and slow."

Harry walked forward carefully with an upraised hand, being sure to not agitate it. The Hippogriff stepped forward and pushed his beak gently against Harry's outstretched hand.

"Good job!" Hagrid said. He stepped forward, "I think he'll let you ride him now."

"What?" Harry asked, squirming as Hagrid bodily picked the boy up and sat him on Buckbeak's back, "Don't pull out his feathers, he won't like you for that!" With that tidbit of advice, he slapped the creature's hindquarters. Buckbeak reared and surged forward, taking off.

The class broke out into murmurs.

"He'll come back, right?" one student asked worriedly.

"What if he falls off?" another speculated.

"Can I try?" a third inquired excitedly.

Hagrid grinned and whistled, bidding the Hippogriff to come back. He helped Harry off of it, whispering, "How am I doing me first day?"

"Brilliant, Professor!" Harry responded breathlessly.

"Oh, please!" Malfoy said arrogantly. He made his way towards Buckbeak, "Come here you stupid bird!"

Buckbeak squawked loudly and reared as Malfoy approached. The Slytherin boy suddenly fell to the ground, clutching his arm. One of the Hippogriff's sharp talons had left a bleeding gash in his arm.

"It's killed me!" He cried.

Hagrid made his way towards the bird, trying to calm it. Alfred ran forward with out thinking, and got in front of it before Hagrid. Buckbeak noticed Alfred waving his arms and abruptly backed off. Alfred stepped towards it, and the Hippogriff took a step back and bowed. Everyone stared. Hagrid peered at the boy from under bushy brows, "What?..."

"Hagrid!" Hermione called, "Malfoy needs to go to the hospital!"

"Oh, right!" the half giant agreed, Alfred quickly forgotten. He picked Malfoy up, "Erm...class dismissed!" He rushed off.

Ron didn't particularly care for Malfoy, so he didn't really pay any mind to the Slytherin's plight.. He watched as Matthew scolded Alfred for his dangerous stunt. Yet again, the brothers did something out of the ordinary, even by wizarding standards. The boy struggled to put the pieces together. Something was off about those two, but he couldn't see what! He would find out, for sure. Perhaps he should talk to Hermione about this.

* * *

**This chapter was longer, I'm so proud of myself! :D Another chapter is on the way.**

**Thanks for the support the story has gotten! It makes me really happy. **

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	9. Chapter 9

"Ron!"

Ron groaned and turned over in his bed, covering his head with the blanket.

"_Ron!_"

"Later." Ron muttered.

"But I _need_ your help." the voice whined.

"Go away, Alfred." Ron responded groggily.

Harry shifted, woken up by the small exchange. "Just help him." he said in annoyance.

Ron sighed mournfully, "Fine. Give me a second." He dragged himself out of his comfortable bed, observed his friend who had fallen asleep again, and jabbed him with his finger.

"Hey!" Harry objected as he fell out of his bed with a _THUMP!_.

"You're coming too." Ron stated vindictively.

"You are completely impossible." Harry grumbled as he untangled himself from his blankets and went into his trunk.

Seamus muttered in his sleep, "Wot you talkin' 'bout?" and turned over.

A wide eyed Alfred silently bade them hurry as Ron pulled a light robe over himself and Harry withdrew his father's invisibility cloak.

"What are we doing, exactly?" Harry whispered.

"Mattie's gone, so I think he's in kitchen." Alfred responded quietly.

"Do you really need us for that?" Ron asked in a suitably irritable fashion.

"I'll need help getting him out of it. He gets a little...intense on days like this." Alfred grimace and continued, "Besides, I don't know where the kitchen is."

Harry gestured for the two to join him under the cloak. They disappeared and exited the dorm room, making their way out of the common room. Harry pulled out his wand and muttered, "Lumos." The stairs lighted up and they quickly made their way towards the kitchens.

"Does he do this often?" asked Ron quietly as they approached the secret entrance to the kitchens.

"Usually no. But the longer he's away from home, the more likely he is to do it." Alfred answered, "I just hope he's not violent this time."

_"Violent?" _Harry asked disbelievingly. Matthew never struck him as the violent type.

"Great." Ron muttered, opening entrance and leading the trio into the kitchens.

It truly was a magnificent sight. Stoves lined the wall and sinks covered another. Ingredients for the next meal sat in waiting on expansive counters and a huge collection of pots and pans sat on a large shelf. But the small army of house elves that should be busy at work were instead hiding in the pantry and under the tables, shaking fearfully. Assorted items laid scattered about the floor, like someone had thrashed the place completely.

Harry flung the cloak off and kneeled under the table, "What are you doing?"

An older house elf scowled, "He won't let us cook!"

"He's scary!" another disgruntled house elf added pointing towards a corner of the kitchen partially hidden by shelves.

"Oh, bugger." Ron cursed.

"Let's get this over with." Alfred said, cautiously picking his way around the mess.

"Matthew?" Harry asked hesitatingly, following Alfred.

They turned the corner and found an odd scene. The Canadian boy, in a robe and slippers, was at an active stove, mumbling to himself in a mixture of French and English and cooking. His polar bear sat on the counter nearby, cheerfully munching on a tower of pancakes at a height unrivaled by even the most ambitious of chefs.

Ron accidentally kicked a ladle that sat on the floor. Matthew's head whipped towards the sound, purple eyes looking a crazed as he surveyed the trio silently.

"Mattie? Put down the spatula." Alfred said carefully.

"Porquoi?" his brother asked, cocking his head to the side.

"You need to go to bed." Harry supplied.

Ron was a bit nervous at Matthew's crooked smile, "You're scaring the house elves."

Matthew expertly flipped some pancakes onto the constantly fluctuating stack, "Why don't they have Canadian maple syrup here?"

"What happened to your emergency supply?" Alfred asked, concern evident on his face.

"I used it!" the Canadian cackled hysterically, "And it was _so good_!" He quieted drastically and muttered, "But it was gone so fast."

"Come on, we have to go." Alfred said, approaching his twin carefully.

Matthew jumped back, holding the spatula like a sword, "No! You can't take this...this _moment_ away from me!" He picked up a knife from the counter with his other hand, and threw it at Ron.

Harry was glad he had his wand out, "Deflecto!" The knife skittered away, it's momentum gone.

"Bloody hell!" Ron exclaimed.

Alfred pounced on his brother, "Give me the spatula!"

Matthew did an odd wrestling move, and Alfred ended up pinned under him, "I said no! You can't control me, America! Do you know how long it's been?! Since I've been home?!"

Alfred somehow kicked Matthew off of him, and staggered off the ground, "Snap out of it!"

Harry snuck up behind Matthew, and pinned his arms behind him. Ron drew his wand, "Stupefy!" Matthew abruptly fell slack, unconscious.

Alfred looked around at the mess, and his eyes rested on the polar bear. "Kuma, what triggered that?" he asked.

The bear shrugged, "I was hungry, he made me pancakes. Then he didn't stop."

Ron leaned on the wall tiredly, "And the thing talks. I'm not even going to ask."

Harry shook his head, "We need to get back to the common room, and I can't carry him. The four of us won't all fit under the invisibility cloak either."

"I'll do it, see you in the dorm." Alfred said, lifting his twin like he weighed nothing, and exiting the kitchen.

The house elves started to come out of hiding. Most picked up brooms and mops to clean up the mess, others began to cook as if nothing happened.

"Harry," Ron said, "somethings off about those two."

"What makes you think that?" Harry asked drily.

Ron punched him lightly on the arm, "Seriously! The Dementors, Professor Trelawney, the hippogriff, Matthew's freak out, _the talking polar bear_. Where do you even _get_ a polar bear?"

Harry frowned, "I haven't really thought about it...but I suppose you have a point. I've noticed some things myself."

"Like what?" Ron inquired.

"Matthew has said 'America' like it was a person twice now. Then Alfred picks his brother up like he was just a loaf of bread!"

"I think we need to ask Hermione about this." Ron said.

Harry picked up his invisibility cloak, "Yes, but later. I want to gather some more evidence."

* * *

**This chapter is done! Yay! This was a request from Dark Meow Meow Kitten of Doom I liked the idea, so I used it. Next chapter is coming soon.**

**Thanks for the reviews and all that jazz, it's great to see people taking the time to read this and tell me what they thought.**

**Later dudes. ^J^ **


	10. Chapter 10

"What happened?" Matthew asked groggily the next morning, seeing his friends give him odd looks.

"You went completely mad...over _pancakes_ of all things." Harry responded, "I can't believe you don't remember!"

Matthew rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, "Oh...sorry."

"You also finished off your emergency supply of maple syrup, so watch yourself." Alfred added as he withdrew his school robes and bomber jacket.

"You mean this could happen _again_?!" Ron asked, horrified at the very thought.

Matthew nodded and swung his legs over the side of the bed, "Yeah, its a condition that runs in the family. Alfred isn't as bad as me, though." He got up and casually made his bed.

"You didn't mention that little tidbit." the redhead growled at the American as he pulled his socks on.

"Must've slipped my mind." Alfred laughed nervously.

"What are you four talking about?" Neville asked.

"An interesting tale that is better left to be told over butterbeer." Ron responded cryptically.

"What's going on today?" Matthew asked, eager to change the subject.

"Unfortunately, we've got Potions with the Slytherins today. Then we have History of Magic and Defense against the Dark Arts." Harry supplied.

Seamus hit his head on one of his bedposts, "Oh, come on! Potions is bad enough as it is. You'd think they'd change the damn schedule after all this time!"

"What's so bad about Potions?" Alfred asked curiously.

"Professor Snape, is a greasy prick who has a bone to pick with Gryffindor House. Only Slytherins like him. But that's only because he lets them get away with everything." Harry answered sourly, gathering his supplies for the day.

"Is he really that bad?" Matthew inquired.

"You don't know the half of it." Neville shuddered.

* * *

Malfoy, who'd been out of class for the last few days, made it back to Potions halfway through class. His right arm was covered in bandages and in a sling. He cruised in, acting like a survivor of some terrible ordeal.

"Does it hurt terribly Draco?" Pansy Parkinson asked as the class did partner work.

Malfoy put on a brave grimace, "Yeah, but I consider myself lucky. Another minute or two and I could've lost my arm!"

"Settle down." Snape said offhandedly.

Harry scowled into his cauldron. Harry would've immediately gotten detention if he came in late. The blatant favoritism was appalling! But on the bright side, Matthew was working with him today, and the Canadian turned out to be a natural in potion making. Snape was having a hard time faulting the Shrinking Solution they were working on.

Hermione , could be heard at a nearby table. She smacked Alfred's hand"No, Alfred. You're supposed to _shred_ them, not chop them. Like this."

"What's the difference, anyway?" Alfred pouted as he relinquished the silver knife to his partner.

Malfoy set up his cauldron right near Ron, who was working with Neville, so that they set their ingredients up at the same table.

"Sir," Malfoy said, "I'll need help cutting these daisy roots, you see my arm-"

Snape didn't even look up, "Weasley, cut up Malfoy's roots."

"There's nothing wrong with your arm!" Ron hissed as his face turned bright red.

"But I need _help_." Malfoy smirked and gestured to his daisy roots with his sling, "You heard the Professor; cut these roots."

Ron seized his knife and began to chop Malfoy's roots roughly, so that they were all different sizes.

"He's mutilating my roots, Professor." Malfoy complained.

Snape rose from his chair and approached the table. He gave Ron an unpleasant smile, "Change roots with Malfoy, Weasley."

"But sir-!"

"Now." Snape commanded in his most dangerous voice.

Ron shoved his own perfectly cut roots across the table towards Malfoy and took up his knife again. He began to try and repair the damage to the roots he now had to use.

"I'll need this shrivelfig skinned too, sir." Malfoy grinned maliciously.

"Potter, skin Malfoy's shrivelfig." Snape ordered, giving Harry an evil look.

Harry frowned and took Malfoys shrivelfig. He skinned it as fast as he could and slammed it back in front of Malfoy without saying a word. Malfoy was almost laughing now.

"Seen your pal Hagrid as of late? I'm afraid he won't be a teacher much longer, so you might want to visit him while you can." Malfoy mocked, "Father's not happy about my injury, so he's complained to the school governers and the Ministry of Magic. He has a lot of influence you know." Malfoy sighed, "And a lasting injury like this, I might never be the same again."

Alfred accidently stuck his knife into the table as he listened to the Slytherin boy speak. "I'm gonna kill me a limey if you don't shut up _right now_." he growled darkly.

"Anytime, yankee." Malfoy responded.

Alfred smiled to himself thinly, and his brother worried sent a worried glance in his direction. He recognized that look.

"You want Hagrid fired." Harry realized, "That's why you're laying it on so thick."

Malfoy lowered his voice to a whisper, "Well, that's one reason. Weasley, slice my caterpillars."

Neville, without his partner being able to help, was having a problem. Rather than a bright acid green, his cauldron contained a sickly orange colored concoction. Potions has never been his best subject, being afraid of the teacher and a generally clumsy fellow.

"What did I tell you," Snape said, "About the quantity of tat hearts? About the amount of leech juice you were supposed to use? Do you learn nothing?" The teacher bodily turned away from the unfortunate Griffindor, "We are going to feed three drops of this to your toad at the end of class. Maybe that will teach you to _read the directions_."

Help me, please!" Neville pleaded with Hermione, who gave him a pitying look and started to set his potion right.

Seamus leaned over to borrow Harry's brass scales, "Did you hear that Sirius black's been sighted?"

"Where?" Harry asked quickly

"By who?" Ron asked at the same time.

"Not far from here." Seamus responded excitedly, "A muggle saw him, but of course she didn't really understand. Muggles think he's just some ordinary criminal. So she called the authorities, but he was gone by the time the Ministry of Magic got there."

Malfoy was listening closely, eyes shining malevolently, "Thinking of trying to catch him single-handedly, Potter?"

"Yeah, that's right." Harry said offhandedly.

Malfoy gave a mean smile, "I'd have done something before now, if it was me. I'd be out looking for him, rather than staying in school like a good boy. Given what he's done to you."

"What'd Black do to him, Malfoy?" Ron demanded roughly.

Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "Don't you know, Potter?" he breathed.

Harry gave a puzzled look, "Know what?"

Malfoy sneered, "Maybe you don't want to risk your neck, so you're leaving it to the Dementors. But if it was me, I'd want _revenge_. I'd hunt him down myself."

Snape interrupted the exchange, "You should have finished adding the ingredients now." he announced, "This potion needs to stew before it's drunk, so clear your workstations while it simmers and then we'll test Longbottoms..."

A few Slytherins laughed openly as Neville despaired. Hermione gave last minute instructions as he feverishly stirred his potion. Harry and Ron packed their unused ingredients while Matthew whispered urgently to his seething brother at the sinks. Harry caught snippets of the conversation.

"...don't...it."

"...can't stop me..."

Harry shook his head and began to wash his hands, "What'd Malfoy mean? Black hasn't done anything to me, yet."

"Malfoy's making it up." Ron said resolutely, "He's trying to make you do something stupid..."

The end of the lesson approached, and Snape strode over to a cowering Neville.

"Gather around," Snape said, "and watch. If Longbottom has managed to produce a Shrinking Solution, his toad will become a tadpole. If not, which is much more likely, his toad will most probably be poisoned."

Students watched in suspense. Slytherins were excited, and Gryffindors watched fearfully. Snape picked up the toad in his left and a spoonful of the now acid green mixture in his right. He trickled a few drops down it's throat.

The amphibian gulped, and there was a small pop. Trevor the toad was now a tadpole, squirming in Snape's palm.

The Gryffindors burst into thankful applause. Snape, always the sore loser, pulled a small bottle from his pocket and poured a few drops on the tadpole. Trevor appeared again to be fully grown.

"Five points from Gryffindor." Snape said, turning on his heel, "You know better than to help him, Miss Granger. Class Dismissed."

The five friends made their way up the steps and towards the entrance hall. Harry thought about what Malfoy had said, and Ron complained about Snape.

"Why didn't you just lie and tell him that Neville did it on his own?" Ron asked.

Malfoy and his cronies slid past them, a smug look on his face. But he was stopped by Alfred reaching out an arm and holding him by the shirt collar, "Oh, no. You think you can get away that easy, boy?"

The Slytherin fought to free himself, "Let go, yank! Get your filthy mudblood hands off of me!"

Bystanders winced or looked downright outraged at Malfoy's curse.

Alfred smiled coldly, "I don't know what that is, but it kinda sounded like an insult." Alfred looked around, "A pretty bad one too, if these peoples' expressions are anything to go by." He pulled, dragging Malfoy closer to him. _"Apologize."_ Alfred hissed into his ear.

"Crabbe, Goyle! Take care of him!" Malfoy ordered.

The two rather burly looking boys faced Alfred, one putting a meaty hand over his fist, and the other one giving a toothy smile that was supposed to be threatening.

Alfred laughed, without mirth, "You think that scares me?" He tossed Malfoy to the ground and waited.

"Al, don't do this." Matthew pleaded.

Malfoy, sneered as he picked himself up, "Do his annoying brother too, when you're done with the American."

Goyle made the first move, getting behind Alfred to pin his arms. But Alfred stepped back and slammed his right elbow into the Slytherin's gut. He immediately followed by bringing the same elbow up to the boy's jaw. Goyle went down, accompanied by the crack of bones in his jaw and a few teeth coming out.

Crabbe stopped his advance, afraid after seeing what had happened to his partner. He glanced at Malfoy apologetically, turned tail, and ran as fast as he could.

"Get back here!" his Malfoy yelled. Alfred's eyes narrowed as turned his attention back to Draco, who had the decency to look concerned.

Ron and Harry watched eagerly. But Hermione suddenly cried out, "Oh, my god! Alfred, what did you do?!"

Alfred's head snapped up, surprised. Hermione was coming down the steps with a heavily laden book bag. How she had gotten up there, or where she had gotten the books, was completely beyond him.

"You've been here the whole time, I thought. Malfoy insulted Hagrid and threatened his brother." Harry said puzzled.

"Now he's getting what's coming to him." Ron added almost happily.

"And no one's gotten a teacher or..." Hermione stopped and sighed. It struck Matthew that she looked extremely tired, "Whatever. I've got to go. I'll see you at dinner." She rushed off.

Malfoy tried to run away while Alfred was distracted. But the American held out a stiff left arm in his path and the Slytherin boy hit the ground again when he ran into it. Alfred stood over him, ready to continue, but was interrupted again.

"What's this?" a new voice demanded.

Alfred's shoulders sagged and he turned around, "Oh, come _on_-wait. Iggy?"

A man in emerald colored robes with messy blond hair stood before the group. He also had green eyes and the largest black eyebrows ever seen.

"That's Professor Kirkland to you!" the man snapped, "Now _what_ is going on here?"

"He threatened my brother!" Alfred stated shamelessly, pointing to Malfoy. His finger moved to Goyle on the floor, "And his thug attacked me!"

The professor raised an eyebrow and turned to Matthew, Ron, and Harry, "Is that true?"

Matthew said nothing. Harry nodded, "It's the truth, sir."

"Not to mention he called Alfred a mudblood!" Ron put in.

"Is that so?" Kirkland said to himself. He faced the two boys, "Alfred, you have detention with me this lunch period for brawling with other students. I taught you better than that."

Alfred kicked the ground and pouted, while Malfoy smirked evilly. The smile was wiped off his face when the professor addressed him, "And you lad, have a week's worth of detention with me for the use of such a slanderous word and general malicious behavior. I'll see you both then."

Malfoy gaped indignantly, "But sir-" he began to point at his bandaged arm.

"No buts." Kirkland interrupted with a slice of his hand. He turned on his heel, and with the parting shot of, "You should get those bandages removed, you're obviously healed!" he was gone.

"Wasn't that the new History of Magic professor?" Harry asked to no one in particular.

"Yes, Arthur Kirkland." Matthew answered.

"And you say he raised Alfred?" he asked.

The Canadian sighed, "Yes."

"He doesn't seem all that bad to me." Ron commented.

* * *

**Another chapter has been completed! I have been writing for seven hours and there's no sign of stopping. **

** Thanks for all the reviews and everything! It keeps me going.**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	11. Chapter 11

Arthur clapped his hands together happily, "Alright! You're all third years I assume, what has Professor Binns been covering with you?"

Harry raised his hand.

"Yes, Mister Potter?"

Harry took a deep breath and said, "Goblin Rebellions."

Professor Kirkland frowned lightly, "Why? Those are irrelevant. What else?" He pointed at another student, who raised his hand.

"Just...goblin rebellions," the student said.

"Really?" he asked disbelievingly. Kirkland sighed, "Oh, my. This will never do." Kirkland paced the class a moment, thinking. He's made up his lesson plans according to what children were supposed to learn by now. If they really know so little...

"Please put your apparently useless textbooks away, and take out some parchment and a quill. I'm going to be teaching you all from the very beginning!" he announced with finality.

Students broke out into murmurs as they did what he said. Could he really teach it all from off the top of his head?

"We'll be starting circa the Ancient Roman Empire." Kirkland said with a smile, "Back then, they more commonly used staffs rather than wands. Rome was one of the first to use magic with a definite form. It's actually why most of our spells are in Latin..."

By the middle of the class, Alfred was snoring softly on his desk. He would probably ask his brother for the notes later. Ron was bored out of his mind and doodling in the margins of his notes, while Harry watched the teacher curiously. He spoke as if he was _there_ when this all happened. The way his movements became more agitated and angry when he discussed Emperor Nero's abuse of magic.. Or how he would speak about assorted creatures of the Fae with either great respect or wariness.

Hermione practically skipped out of the classroom happily, "He's _such_ a good teacher! I'm thrilled to study under him, aren't you?" she directed this question to her four friends.

Harry nodded, "He certainly _does_ make it interesting..."

Alfred yawned and stretched, "About as interesting as a lullaby, maybe. Mattie, can I use your notes later?"

Matthew sighed and shook his head, "Fine, remind me later."

"What did you think, Ron?" Hermione asked.

"I think I'm going to need those notes too, Matthew," Ron stated mischievously.

"Don't you care about your grade? You'll need to be ready for OWLs you know," Hermione reminded.

"OWLs? Those aren't even close!" Harry responded.

"It's still good to be prepared," Hermione said defensively.

"She has a point, but I don't think we should be worrying about something that far away," Matthew said. "I'm starving! Let's go to lunch."

Alfred scuffed his shoe on the floor, "Damn, I almost forgot. I've got detention. I'll see ya'll at the next class." He turned back towards Professor Kirkland's classroom, and jogged away.

"That's got to suck," Ron commented as Alfred disappeared.

"What?" Matthew asked.

"Having detention with a parent," Ron said with a shudder. "I can't imagine what my mum would do to me if I was in detention with _her_ all lunch."

"The professor's not that bad," Hermione said confidently, "He should be fine."

* * *

I want you to dust and polish all the desks and tables. Then you must sweep and mop the floor.

Alfred glanced around at the large room, counting the desks and gauging the length of the room. He frowned unhappily, "How am I supposed to get done with that by next class?"

"Work quickly." Arthur responded shortly. He handed the boy a feather duster, "You know you could just enchant the cleaning supplies, right?"

"I'd rather not," Alfred said a little too quickly. He took the duster and set to work without another word.

Arthur shook his head. What was wrong with that boy? He glanced at the American one last time, "_Someone's_ going to notice your aversion to magic eventually. You need to be comfortable with using your wand for things, at least while you're here." He exited the room, leaving Alfred to ponder.

Little did either one know, that in a darkened corner of the room, was an unnoticed blond Slytherin boy. He watched the whole exchange, and an evil grin spread across his pale face as he planned his revenge.

* * *

"There you are!" Ron said cheerfully as their friend caught up to them. "How was detention?"

"It was terrible, he made me clean the _whole_ room! Do you know how big that room is?" Alfred complained.

"Well, what did you expect would happen after pulling that stunt?" Hermione huffed. "Even if it was Malfoy and his goons."

"I'd do it again in a heart beat." Alfred said

Matthew shot his brother a look of warning, "Al, don't,"

Alfred said nothing in response.

* * *

"Good afternoon," Professor Lupin said, "Put your books away and get out your wands. Today we are doing a practical lesson."

Students glanced at each other curiously and did as the shabbily dressed professor said. They remembered the last time they had a practical lesson, when the professor had released a cage of pixies into the class.

"Follow me," Lupin said when the class was ready.

Everyone got to their feet, puzzled. The professor lead them along a deserted corridor and around a corner, to see none other than Peeves the poltergeist floating upside down in midair. The insufferable spirit was stuffing a wad of bubble gum into the keyhole of a broom closet. He looked up and saw Professor Lupin.

"Ah, I see Loony, loopy Lupin has returned!" He said gleefully.

Professor Lupin's smile didn't fade, "You should probably take the gum out of the keyhole. Mr. Filch won't be happy when he can't get to his brooms."

Mr. Filch, a failed wizard with a bad temper, waged a constant war against students. But the Hogwarts caretaker had a special hate for Peeves.

Peeves paid no mind to Lupin's words, and blew a loud wet raspberry in the teacher's direction.

"Watch closely," Lupin addressed the class over his shoulder as he took out his wand. "This is quite a useful little spell."

He raised his wand to shoulder height and pointed it at Peeves, "Waddiwasi!"

The gum wad shot out of the keyhole with the force of a speeding bullet. It went straight down Peeves's left nostril, and sent the poltergeist zooming away, cursing.

A student named Dean Thomas exclaimed, "Cool, sir!"

"Thank you," the professor responded as he put his wand away again, "Shall we proceed?"

He lead the class to the staffroom, a place that students usually never go. Lupin opened the door and ushered them inside.

The place was a long, paneled room full of old, mismatched chairs. The only occupant was Professor Snape. He sat in a low armchair, a nasty sneer playing at his mouth as he watched the class file in. He got to his feet saying, "I'd rather not witness this," as he strode pass the class. At the doorway, he turned to face Lupin, "I'll have to warn you. This class contains Neville Longbottom. I advise that you not entrust him with anything difficult, unless Miss Granger is hissing instructions in his ear."

Neville went scarlet, Matthew and Alfred had twin looks of disgust for Snape, and Harry glared. Snape was bad enough in his own classes, couldn't he at least leave well enough alone in front of other teachers?

Lupin raised his eyebrows, "Actually, I was hoping to have Neville assist me with the first stage of this operation, I'm sure he'll do fine."

Neville's face somehow flushed an even deeper red. Snape's lip curled, but he left, shutting the door with a snap.

"Now, then," Professor Lupin said, beckoning the class towards the end of the room, where there was nothing but an old wardrobe for teachers to keep spare robes. Lupin went to stand next to it, and the thing gave a sudden wobble, banging off the wall.

"Don't worry," Lupin said calmly, "It's just a boggart."

Neville had an expression of pure terror, and Seamus Finnigan eyed the rattling doorknob of the wardrobe apprehensively. Alfred looked at it curiously, not knowing what a boggart was. Matthew had a bad feeling about it from seeing his classmates' expressions.

"Boggarts prefer dark, enclosed spaces," the professor lectured, "Wardrobes, gaps beneath beds, cupboards under sinks-I've even met one inside a grandfather clock."

The wardrobe hopped again, making some students jump.

Lupin continued like he hadn't noticed, "This one moved in yesterday afternoon, and I asked the headmaster if the staff would leave it for my third years to practice on. But first we must ask, what is a boggart?"

Hermione put up her hand. "It's a shapeshifter. It takes the form of whatever the wizard fears the most."

"Exactly, I couldn't have put it better myself," said Professor Lupin. Hermione glowed from the praise.

"Thankfully, there's a simple charm to repel a boggart," Lupin said. "Remember that the number one weakness of a boggart is _laughter_. When you use this spell, think of something you find amusing. The boggart will then be forced to assume that shape. Now repeat after me, "Riddikulus!"

"Riddikulus!" the class repeated dutifully.

"This class is ridiculous." Malfoy could be heard to mutter.

"Now Neville," the professor said, bidding the Griffindor boy to come forward, "What frightens you the most?"

"P-professor Snape." Neville said, barely a whisper.

Nearly everyone laughed, even Neville had to smile, but Lupin looked thoughtful.

"Hmmm...Neville, I believe you live with your grandmother?" he inquired.

"Yes," Neville said nervously, "But I don't want it to turn into her either."

"No, no. You misunderstand me," Professor Lupin said, now smiling. "Can you picture your grandmother's clothes?"

"She...has a handbag-" Neville started.

"Don't tell me. Just keep those clothes in your mind's eye." Lupin interrupted. "When I release the boggart, it will see you and assume the form of Professor Snape. When it does, I want you to raise your wand and shout, 'Riddikulus!' and if all goes well, you will see Snape in your grandmother's clothes."

There were snickers and giggles throughout the class, and the wardrobe wobbled more violently.

"Now everybody form a line! The boggart will be facing each of you in turn!" Lupin ordered. "I want you all to think of what you fear most, and imagine how you might force it to look comical..."

The class eagerly shoved itself into a semi-orderly line. Harry thought of what would scare him the most.

Voldemort...returned to full strength. But even as he started to plan a possible counterattack on the boggart, a horrible thought came to mind. A skeletal hand, under a black cloak...that horrible rattling sound and that sensation of cold darkness...Harry shivered, looking around at the class.

Ron had his eyes shut tightly, "Take it's legs off...?" He obviously thinking of spiders.

Alfred seemed to be having trouble, as was his brother. Harry could hear undertones of their quiet conversation.

"There's so _many_...how do I know which one it will be?" One brother asked.

"Think of as many as possible..." the other responded.

Harry took solace in the fact that he wasn't the only one.

Professor Lupin moved away from the wardrobe and said, "Ready?" He waved his wand, and the doors opened.

Professor Snape stalked out, his eyes flashing. He advanced towards Neville.

"R-riddikulus!" Neville squeaked.

There was a noise lick a whip crack. Snape stumbled; he was wearing a long, lace-trimmed dress and a towering hat topped with a moth-eaten vulture, and he was swinging a huge crimson handbag.

There was a roar of laughter; and the boggart paused, confused.

"Next! Ron!" Lupin shouted.

Ron stepped forward hesitatingly. The boggart straightened and blurred, becoming a huge, hairy spider.

"Riddikulus!" Ron shouted.

_Crack!_ Brightly colored roller skates appeared on the spider's feet. It slipped and struggled to stay standing. This was accompanied by another roar of laughter.

"Parvati! You're next!"

The girl stepped up, and the boggart became a giant rattle snake.

"Riddikulus!" Parvati cried.

_Crack!_ The snake became a giant jack in the box, with the clown rocking back and forth like it had just sprung.

"Matthew, come forth!"

Matthew squeezed his brother's hand briefly and came forward. The boggart began to blur rapidly again. It stopped on the form of a young man with blond hair in an ostentatious purple outfit. His back was to Matthew, apparently not noticing him.

"Papa?" Matthew asked disbelievingly. He was never scared of...

The man turned around, revealing blue eyes and a scraggily chin. He frowned lightly and said with a thick french accent, "Do I know you?" The boggart, unusually, blurred again. It took the appearance of Matthew himself. Not-Matthew gasped, and sprouted. It became an older version of Matthew, with a look of mortification on it's face, as if being caught doing something dastardly.

Matthew grimaced and pointed his wand, "Riddikulus!"

_Crack!_ Not-Matthew sprouted again, but this time it became tall enough to hit the ceiling, and it's clothes became comically small. The class laughed.

Lupin patted Matthew on the back as the Canadian went towards the back of the line. The professor briefly wondered what it could mean.

"Alfred!"

The American stepped towards the creature. The boggart blurred, shrunk, and rested on the form of a woman who looked to be in her thirties. Her outdated clothing looked tattered and was covered in dust. She held an empty pot with a ladle hanging from her other hand, "Nothin' left folks," she said sadly. The woman then glared directly at Alfred, "And it's _your fault._" The boggart blurred again, becoming the form of a pilgrim clutching an old bible. He pointed at Alfred and screamed, "Burn the witch! Destroy that which is unknown!"

Alfred took a step back fearfully, but firmly reminded himself that it wasn't real, "Uh, Riddikulus!"

_Crack!_ It's outfit became a jester's costume. The bible became a heavy phonebook and the boggart dropped it on it's own foot. The class laughed at it's plight.

"Harry, your turn!" the professor said. He inwardly frowned. What was that about?

Harry faced the boggart, hoping beyond hopes that it would be Voldemort. But such was not to be. The boggart stopped trying to free it's foot, and smiled evilly at Harry. It's form blurred, becoming that which Harry feared the most, a Dementor.

Harry froze, forgetting everything. He felt only fear, he saw only a Dementor. The cloaked figure floated eerily towards the boy, it's breath rattling through the single, black hole in it's face.

Lupin jumped in front of him, and the thing blurred, becoming a glowing orb, almost like a moon...

"Riddikulus!"

_Crack!_ It became a bright a bright red balloon. It flew around the room as it deflated, until it disappeared into a wisp of smoke. He turned to face the class, looking grey-faced, "Great job everyone! Class dismissed. I shall see you all next time!"

The class filed out of the room, leaving the teacher alone.

* * *

**Done with this chapter! I, personally, was especially looking forward to this one. On to business! I'm _considering_ a sequel, but I would have to skip the Goblet of Fire and move on to the Order of the Phoenix. This would be because I have more ideas for the fifth year than I do the fourth. **

**But have no fear Avatar: the Last Airbender fans, for I will _definite_ly be writing a APHxATLA crossover immediately following this story.**

**Thanks for the reviews and everything! It's great, I love them, and you all get virtual cookies!**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	12. Chapter 12

Arthur knocked on the door politely as he came in, "You wished to see me, sir?"

Three people were already in the room. Dumbledore sat behind his desk. Two chairs sat in front of it, and one was already occupied. Snape's lip curled in a sneer as he regarded the green eyed teacher.

The headmaster inclined his head, indicating the empty chair, "Yes, take a seat."

Arthur didn't sit, he simply stood near the door. "What's this about?" he asked immediately.

"Why so defensive so soon?" Snape asked with half lidded eyes.

"Stop that," Dumbledore chided his morbid employee. He faced Arthur fully, "You have no reason to think yourself on trial, Professor Kirkland. We simply need to ask you some questions concerning your young charges, Alfred F. Jones and Matthew Williams."

Arthur still wouldn't sit, but he did go to stand next to the chair. "What do you wish to know?" he asked carefully.

"I understand that they were raised in separate countries," Dumbledore began, "How were they reunited?"

"I...found Alfred in the woods, abandoned in the Ne-in the United States. I raised him like my own. I learned about his brother soon after I found him. I tracked Matthew down and adopted him from a Frenchman in Canada so that the brothers could be together." Arthur responded, remembering the story he had thought up a while back.

Snape narrowed his eyes, "Where did they go to school before?"

Arthur narrowed his eyes in return, "Matthew started his education at the École de Sorcellerie in Quebec. He later joined his brother at the Salem School of the Magical Arts in Massachusetts."

"Mm." Dumbledore nodded.

"What about you? Where did you come from?" Snape asked suddenly.

Arthur raised both eyebrows, "What do you mean? My qualifications-"

"Where were you born?" Snape interrupted.

Arthur paused as he tried to come up with something, "...England."

"Anywhere specific?" Snape pressed.

Arthur looked down, "No, but..."

"When did you graduate from Hogwarts?"

"The 1980's," Arthur responded vaguely.

"If-"

"Must you ask so many personal questions?" Arthur finally said, exasperated.

Dumbledore spoke up, "We're sorry about this little intrusion into your privacy..."

Arthur spun on the headmaster, _"Little intrusion-?!" _

"...but we don't know you."

Arthur stopped and raised an eyebrow, "What?"

"We don't know you." he repeated calmly.

Snape stood up, and started circling the green eyed Englishman, "We've never heard of you. We don't know your power, we don't know your alignments, we don't know your history...nothing."

Arthur was silent for a moment. Maybe he could just give them _part_ of the truth...He bodily faced the three professors. "I was born in England, I went to Hogwarts in my youth as part of the Slytherin House, and until now I've kept a small government position. If you want anything further, then please feel free to look at my resume again." He swept out of the room, leaving the two suspicious men behind.

The moment the door snapped shut behind the irritated professor, Snape turned to Dumbledore.

"He's hiding something."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, "Yes, I can see that." He cocked his head to the side curiously, "Aren't we all?"

* * *

Over the next few weeks, Harry ended up loving Defense Against the Dark Arts the most out of all his classes. Professor Kirkland's class was entertaining to though. Unfortunately, his other classes were a different story.

Snape was in a particularly terrible mood these days, and everyone knew why. Neville's encounter with the boggart that took Snape's shape, which the boy had dressed in his grandmother's clothes, had traveled through the school like wildfire. He bullied Neville worse than ever, and wouldn't hear anything about Professor Lupin. He's also been harassing Matthew and Alfred lately.

"Don't they teach this to you in America, _boy_?" Snape would demand when they made a mistake.

Alfred's sarcastic responses didn't help matters either."Well, we aren't _in_ America right now, so why don't _you_ teach us?" Alfred had shot back in one instance. He got ten points deducted from Gryffindor, and detention.

Harry was also growing to dread the hours he spent in Professor Trelawney's Divinations class. He did his best to ignore the looks of pity and sadness he would get from the professor...and her followers. Yes, she was treated with reverence by many of the class. Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown had taken to spending extra time with the professor at lunch times. They would return with smug looks of superiority on their faces, as though they knew something others didn't. When they addressed him, they spoke to Harry in hushed voices, as if he were on his deathbed. He hated it.

Hagrid, unfortunately, seemed to have lost all his confidence after the first action-packed lesson. The class had become extremely boring. Now they spent lesson after lesson learning how to look after flobberworms, which had to be the most boring creatures in existence.

"Why would anyone bother looking after them?" Ron said after another hour of poking shredded lettuce down the creatures' throats.

Matthew shrugged, swatting Kuma's hand away from the cage, "I...don't know. But I wouldn't want one for a pet."

At the start of October, however, Harry had something else to occupy him. Something so enjoyable that it more than made up for his terrible classes. The Quidditch season was fast approaching, which meant practice time.

"Where are you going?" Matthew asked curiously one Friday afternoon in the common room.

"I'm going to Quidditch practice, the season's starting soon," Harry explained.

"What's Quidditch?" Alfred asked, propping himself up on the cushiony chair he sat on.

Ron and Seamus, who were playing wizard's chess nearby, simultaneously gave the American looks of disgust mixed with disbelief.

"Have you been living under a _rock_?" Seamus demanded.

"No, I've been living in the United States," Alfred said confusedly.

"The _equivalent_ of a rock when it comes to proper sports," Ron said drolly.

Neville entered the conversation coming down the stairs, "It's alright, we'll tell you the rules so that you can follow the game."

"You can come and watch the Gryffindor team practice if you want," Harry offered.

"Cool!" Alfred said, fist pumping in the air.

"Where's Hermione? Does she want to come?" Ron asked.

"She's at the library," Matthew said, "She said she wanted to research something about America, since Alfred isn't the most reliable source in the world."

Alfred pouted, "Nuh-uh! I'm a great source!"

"Come on Alfred! I don't want to be late." Harry said half-way out of the portrait hole.

The American gave a mighty and exaggerated sigh, "Alrighty then. Let's go, Mattie!"

* * *

Hermione roamed the tall, dusty shelves of the library. When Matthew had asked, she made sure to give him vague details. It's true, she wanted to research something about wizards in America. But she hadn't told him that it was because of what had happened in Defense Against the Dark Arts class a while back. Matthew's fears were rather obvious. He doesn't want to be forgotten. The other is a little less clear, but she's figured it out. He doesn't want to grow up. He must be afraid of responsibility.

Alfred was another matter. She suspected that he was afraid of being blamed. But that specter implied something that's happened _before_,as did the second one. A pilgrim...and witch burning? Perhaps the persecution of witches and wizards bothered him. But it doesn't happen anymore, at least, not as far as she knew.

This wasn't the only thing. Sometimes it seemed those brothers would act beyond their years. On the train, Alfred had called Harry 'kid' as if he were older than Harry. Not to mention his immense strength. Matthew had referred to America as a person, during his reaction to the Dementor on the train. There were times when either Matthew or Alfred would slip with their names, and begin to call each other something else. And occasionally, when they thought no one was looking, they seemed to privately reminisce on things long past.

Something was off about those two, she just knew it.

* * *

"What are they doing now?" Alfred asked curiously.

Him, Ron, and Neville were up in the high bleachers of the Quidditch field. They've watched the Gryffindor team do assorted drills and scrimmage games, for quite a while now, and it was getting dark.

"They're flying in formation," Ron responded, nodding to himself in approval as one of the Chasers made a flawless turn.

"Why?" Matthew asked.

"It helps improve their teamwork and broom mechanics." Neville supplied.

"Oh...wait, why are they landing?"

"They're done for the day, probably going to get a pep talk in the locker room from the captain, Oliver Wood," Ron said. He got up, stretching his limbs and shivering a bit from the chilly weather, "And so are we. Anyone else up for a warm meal?"

Sounds of affirmation came from all around. They filed out of the bleachers, heading towards the Great Hall.


	13. Chapter 13

"There you are Hermione!" Ron exclaimed, beckoning her to their spot at the long Gryffindor table.

The girl sat down, hefting her bag onto the empty space beside her with an effort.

"Dang, girl! How many books you got in there?" Alfred inquired, raising an eyebrow.

Hermione put a protective hand over the satchel, "Oh, just a few."

Matthew pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose speculatively, "How much is a few?"

Hermione opened her mouth to answer, but was interrupted by the screeching of an owl.

The five friends looked up simultaneously to see a white owl heading right for the front of the room. It carried a bright red envelope. Other students took notice and started to snicker and wonder who it was for. The bird dropped the envelope on the teachers table in front of a surprised Mr. Kirkland and flew off.

"What's that?" Alfred asked, indicating the envelope.

"It's a Howler, but I've never seen one being sent to a teacher..." Ron said quietly.

"What makes it any different from a regular letter?" Matthew asked.

"You'll see, be quiet! I want to hear this!" Hermione shushed.

A hush fell over the room as it waited in anticipation for the show to begin. The letter began to smoke and Professor Mcgonagall muttered something to Professor Kirkland. A look of resignation passed over the blond teacher's face as he opened it. It leapt up and delivered it's message.

"ENGLAAAAAND!" it screamed in an angry German accent, "I EXPECT A MESSAGE WITH YOUR LOCATION IMMEDIATELY! YOU HAVE A BACKLOG OF PAPERWORK TO DO THAT YOU WILL NOT GET AWAY FROM! INFORM AMERICA AND CANADA THAT THEY DO AS WELL!

Arthur's head hit the table in mortified exasperation.

The message broke off into a garbled argument in the background.

"WHAT'S THAT?"

"GO BACK TO YOUR SEATS!"

"I WILL MAKE WARSAW YOUR CAPITAL!"

"I WON'T BE ONE WITH YOU, RUSSIA!"

"ARU!"

The letter finally burst into flames. By now, Arthur's face was white, somewhere between utter terror and absolute rage. He rose from he table, and silently exited the hall.

Harry caught the significant look exchanged by Matthew and Alfred. They burst into laughter, as did most of the other students.

"Did you see Iggy's face?!" Alfred wheezed breathlessly. He took a gulp of breath and let out a booming belly laugh, "HAHAHAHA!"

Matthew shook his head and clutched his stomach, laughing quietly, "Oh god! Oh, I never thought that they would...!"

Ron patted them both on the back, giggling at the absurdity of it all. Hermione though, didn't laugh. Once again, she has heard countries referred to as people. She fully intended to speak to Ron and Harry about this. But later, when they were alone.

* * *

Mcgonagall peered at her colleague closely. He was thinking of something, she could tell. One could practically see the gears turning in his head as he tried to puzzle something together.

"What is it, Severus?"

Snape shook his head, "Nothing, Minerva," He got up, "Excuse me, I have work to do." The black clad teacher swept out of the hall.

* * *

The next few weeks were a blur that Harry hardly remembers. His mostly dismal classes went on, with Quidditch practice three days a week. He hardly noticed the weather get colder until the first snow.

Harry returned to the Gryffindor common room one evening after training, cold and stiff but pleased with how practice had gone, to find the room buzzing excitedly.

"What's going on?" he asked Hermione and Ron, who were helping each other complete star charts for Astronomy while sitting in the best chairs by the fireside.

"First Hogsmeade weekend," Ron stated, pointing at a notice that had appeared on the old bulletin board. "End of October. Halloween."

"Excellent," said Fred, who had followed harry through the portrait hole, 'I need to visit Zonko's. I'm nearly out of Stink Pellets."

Alfred entered the room next, his brother in tow. He boldly tapped trouble making redhead on the shoulder, "Hey, I need help setting a trick up on Ig-ah, Professor Kirkland for Halloween. Could you hook me up?"

Fred's face split into a wide grin. He placed a hand on Alfred's shoulder and steered him to the side, where they could speak privately.

Matthew shook his head ruefully and joined the trio by the fireplace, "Hey, guys."

"Are you going to Hogsmeade?" Ron asked suddenly.

Matthew scratched his head, "Eh, I believe Arthur mentioned something like that at some point..."

"Great!" Ron exclaimed.

Harry plopped into a chair, his high spirits ebbing away. Hermione seemed to read his mind.

"I'm sure you'll be able to go next time," she said. "They're bound to catch Black soon. He's been sighted once already."

"Black can't be stupid enough to try anything in Hogsmeade," said Ron. "Ask Mcgonagall if you can go this time, Harry. The next one might not be for ages-"

"Ron!" Hermione chided, "'Harry's supposed to stay in school-"

"He can't be the only third year left behind," said Ron.

"It certainly would be a shame for you to miss out...I suppose there can't be any harm in asking Mcgonagall." Matthew added quietly.

"You know what? I think I will." Harry decided.

* * *

In Transfigurations class the next day, Professor Mcgonagall made an announcement, "As you are all in my House, you should hand Hogsmeade permission forms to me before halloween. No, form, no visiting the village, so don't forget!"

Neville raised his hand.

"Please, Professor, I-I think I've lost my-"

"Your grandmother sent yours to me directly, Longbottom," said Professor Mcgonagall. "She seemed to think it was safer. Oh, and I almost forgot!" She turned her attention to Alfred and Matthew, "Jones, Williams, Professor Kirkland has handed me your permission slips already." She addressed the class, "That's all, you may leave."

"No, Harry-" Hermione started.

"Ask her now," Ron hissed.

Harry waited for the class to disappear, then headed nervously for the Professor's desk.

"Yes, Potter?" she asked, glancing up at him.

"Professor, my aunt and uncle-er-forgot to sign my form," he said.

Professor Mcgonagall looked over her spectacles, saying nothing.

"So-erm d'you think it would be alright, I mean, will it be okay if I...if I go to Hogsmeade?"

The Professor looked down and began shuffling papers on her desk. "I'm afraid not, Potter," she said. "You heard what I said. You know the rule."

"But-Professor, my aunt and uncle-you know, they're Muggles, they don't really understand-Hogwarts forms and such," Harry protested, while Ron nodded vigorously in agreement. "If you said I could go-"

"I'm sorry," said the professor, standing up and putting her things away, "A parent or guardian must give permission. That is my final word. You had better hurry for your next class.

There was nothing to be done. Hermione assumed an all-for-the-best attitude, and Ron fumed about the injustice of it all. Harry had to endure everyone in class talking loudly and happily about what they would do in Hogsmeade.

"There's always the Halloween feast," Matthew had said, in an effort to cheer Harry up.

"Yeah, great," Harry said gloomily.

Nothing made him feel any better about the situation. Dean Thomas offered to forge Vernon's signature, but it was no use since Mcgonagall knew it wasn't signed. Ron half-heartedly suggested the invisibility cloak, but Hermione stamped that plan out by reminding them that Dementors could see through them. Percy's words were the worst.

"Hogsmeade isn't all it's cracked up to be," he had said. "Sure, the sweetshop is rather good, Zonko's joke shop is quite dangerous, and yes, the Shrieking Shack is always worth a visit, but honestly, Harry, you're not missing much else."

He woke the next morning, and went down to breakfast with everyone in a thoroughly depressed mood.

"We'll bring you lots of sweets from Honeyduke's," Hermione said.

"We'll have Alfred carry the bag so that we can bring more!" Ron added.

"Just have a good time, don't worry about me," Harry responded in a note he hoped was offhand. "I'll see you all at the feast."

He accompanied them to the Entrance Hall. Filch was there, checking off names and peering suspiciously into the crowd, making sure no one snuck out.

"Staying here, Potter?" Malfoy shouted, who was standing in line with Crabbe and a partly toothless Goyle. "Scared of passing the Dementors?"

Alfred also stood in line, but he looked worried. Harry noticed that Matthew wasn't by his side like he usually was.

Harry shrugged to himself and made his solitary way up the marble staircase, through the deserted corridors, and back to Gryffindor Tower.

"Password?" said the Fat Lady, jerking out of a doze.

"Fortuna Major," Harry said listlessly.

The portrait swung open and he climbed through the hole into the common room. It was full of chattering first and second years, and some older students, who had visited Hogsmeade to the point where the novelty had worn off.

In front of the fireplace though, sat Matthew. He was gazing into the fire with a slight grimace, as if remembering something painful. Harry took the unoccupied chair next to him.

"Something on your mind, Matt?" Harry asked casually.

Matthew gave a start, looked at Harry for a moment and sighed, "It doesn't matter...not anymore. I'd rather not talk about it."

"Alright then," Harry responded. He looked around, and noticed first and second years whispering and pointing at his scar. It was Harry's turn to sigh, "Do you want to go to the Library or something? People here are staring at my forehead."

Matthew chuckled and stood, "Oh, the plight of the celebrity. I suppose anywhere is better than here."

The two friends exited the common room. They made their way towards the Library, chatting about nothing. They came face-to-face with Filch, of all people.

"What are you two doing?" the foul caretaker demanded.

"Nothing," Harry said truthfully.

"Nothing!" spat Filch, his jowls quivering unpleasantly. "A likely story! Sneaking around like this-why aren't you in Hogsmeade buying Stink Pellets and Belch Powder and Whizzing Worms like the rest of your nasty little friends?"

The boys shrugged simultaneously.

"Get back to your common room where you belong!" snapped Filch. He stood glaring until Harry and Matthew passed out of sight.

Harry looked at Matthew as they walked, "Why _aren't_ you going to Hogsmeade with your brother anyway?"

"Nothing there for me, I guess." Matthew responded, "Alfred will probably tell me all about it later. You know how he can spin a story, I won't miss much." He spread his hands, "Besides, my brother agreed to carry the candy. Do you _know_ how much he can carry? We'll be all set."

"We aren't really going back to the common room are we?" Harry asked.

"Of course not, Filch is a sourpuss. He doesn't like me because I kicked his cat." Matthew responded casually.

"_You_ kicked his cat?" Harry asked incredulously. He shook his head, "You surprise me all the time, Matthew."

They began to climb another staircase. They walked down the corridor a while, but were stopped by a voice from one of the rooms, "Harry? Matthew?"

Professor Lupin stood at his office door, one hand on the frame.

"What are you doing?" he asked curiously. "Where are the rest of your friends?"

"Hogsmeade," the two friends said together.

"Ah," said Lupin. He considered the two, "Why don't you two come in? I've just taken a grindylow for our next lesson"

"A what?" Harry asked. He looked at Matthew, who shrugged.

* * *

"Check out the haul we made on this one!" Alfred said cheerfully. He plopped two bags of candy that were each half the height and weight of himself, on the floor in front of a wide eyed Matthew and a gaping Harry.

It was dusk; Ron, Hermione, and Alfred had just turned up in the common room, pink-faced from the biting wind and looking as though they'd had the time of their lives.

"Thanks," Harry said, opening the bag and picking out a packet of tiny black Pepper Imps, "How do you do it anyway?"

"Do what?" Alfred asked.

"Carry things like...this. Why are you so strong?" Harry asked curiously.

"Do you take some kind of potion?" Hermione pressed, thinking that to be the logical conclusion.

The American shrugged, "Nah, I've just always been this way."

Matthew, eager to change the subject, pulled out a maple flavored candy, "What's Hogsmeade like? Where did you go?"

By the sounds of it, everywhere. Dervish and Banges, the wizarding equipment shop, Zonko's Joke Shop, the Three Broomsticks, and many places besides.

"You should have seen the post office! About two hundred owls, all sitting on shelves and color-coded depending on how fast you want your letter to get there!"

"Honeydukes has a new fudge; there's a bit in your bag Mattie, try it-"

"Alfred won an arm wrestiling contest with an ogre at the Three Broomsticks! Then we had some foaming mugs of butterbeer!"

"Wish we could have brought you some, it really warms you up-"

"What did you two do?" Hermione asked anxiously.

"Nothing much." said Matthew.

Harry nodded, "Although we did go see professor Lupin and had some tea with him. And then Snape came in..."

He and Matthew told them about the goblet. Ron's jaw hit the floor.

"Lupin drank it?" he gasped. "Is he mad?"

Hermione checked her watch, "We'd better go down, the feast'll be starting in five minutes."

They hurried through the portrait hole and into the crowd, still discussing Snape.

"Would he really have poisoned Lupin right in front of Harry?" Alfred asked in a low voice.

"I honestly don't know," Harry returned as they reached the entrance hall and crossed into the Great Hall. It had been decorated with hundreds and hundreds of candle-filled pumpkins, a cloud of fluttering live bats, and many flaming orange streamers, which swam lazily across the stormy enchanted ceiling.

The food was delicious; even Hermione and Ron, who had eaten their fill at Honeydukes, managed second helpings of everything. Harry kept glancing at the teachers' table.

Professor Lupin looked cheerful and well as he always did; he was in an animated discussion with the miniscule Charms teacher, Professor Flitwick, and Professor Kirkland. Harry's eyes traveled along the table, to where Snape sat. Was it just him, or were Snape's eyes flickering toward Lupin more often than was natural?

"Dude, check this out," Alfred whispered in his ear, "Three, two, one..."

Professor Kirkland's plate burst into a mess of lights and noises that could be heard even over the happy chatter of the student body. The blond teacher tried to jump back, but instead fell backwards in his chair. He drew himself up off the ground, using the table for support. He shook his fist in their general direction, _"Damn it Alfred, I know that was you! We had an armistice!"_

Dumbledore leaned over to whisper something in the fuming teacher's ear. Kirkland cocked his head, and frowned. He sat down again in a huff, resuming his interrupted conversation. He paid them no further mind.

Fred Weasely reached over from down the table and high-fived Alfred. Ron shot him a huge grin. Hermione sighed and shook here head, as did Matthew. Harry snickered, expelling all negative thoughts.

Much to Alfred's dismay though, the feast was finished with entertainment provided by the Hogwarts ghosts. They popped out of the walls and tables to do a bit of formation gliding. The American's usual bravado was absolutely gone by the time Nearly Headless Nick finished reenacting his own botched beheading. He visibly tried to shrink down into his seat.

Harry glanced at the teachers' table to see Professor Kirkland smiling mischievously at the Gryffindor table. It must have been his idea. He out of all people would know Alfred hated ghosts. Apparently, he didn't honor this armistice of theirs either.

It had been such a pleasant evening that Harry's good mood couldn't even be spoiled by Malfoy, who shouted through the crowd as they all left the hall, "The Dementors send their love, Potter!"

The five friends followed the crowd along the usual path to Gryffindor Tower, but when they reached the corridor that ended with the portrait of the Fat Lady, they found it jammed with students.

"Why has no one gone in?" Ron asked curiously.

Harry peered over the heads in front of him. The portrait seemed to be closed.

"Let me through please," came Percy's voice as he bustled importantly through the crowd. "What's the holdup here? You can't all have forgotten the password-excuse me, I'm Head _Boy_-!"

A chilling silence traveled from the front, to the back of the crowd. Percy suddenly said in a suddenly sharp voice, "Somebody get Professor Dumbledore. Quickly!"

People's heads turned; those at the back were standing on tiptoe.

"What's going on?" asked a recently arrived Ginny Weasley.

Professor Dumbledore arrived a moment later, sweeping towards the portrait. A path was cleared for him and the five friends pressed closer to see the trouble.

"Oh, my-" Hermione grabbed Matthew's arm for support.

The Fat Lady had vanished from her portrait. The thing itself had been slashed so viciously that strips of canvas littered the floor; great chunks of it had been torn away completely.

Dumbledore took one quick look at the ruined painting and turned, his eyes somber, to see Professors Mcgonagall, Lupin, Kirkland and Snape hurrying towards him.

"We need to find her," Dumbledore said. "Professor Mcgonagall, please go to Mr. Filch at once and tell him to search every painting in the castle for the Fat Lady."

"You'll be lucky!" said a cackling voice.

None other than Peeves the Poltergeist, bobbing over the crowd and looking delighted, as he always did, at the sight of wreckage and worry.

"What do you mean, Peeves?" Dumbledore asked calmly. Peeves's grin faded a little. He didn't dare taunt Dumbledore. Instead he adopted an oily voice that was no better than a cackle, "Ashamed, Your Headship, sir. Doesn't want to be seen. She's a horrible mess. Saw her running through the landscape up on the fourth floor, sir, dodging between trees and crying something dreadful," he said happily. "Poor thing," he added as an unconvincing afterthought.

"Did she mention the culprit?" Dumbledore pressed quietly.

"Oh yes, Professorhead," said Peeves, with the air of one cradling an active bombshell in his arms. "He got very angry when she wouldn't let him in, you see." Peeves flipped over and grinned at Dumbledore from between his own legs. "Sirius Black has one _nasty_ temper."

* * *

**Another chapter is done! Hooray! On to the next! Oh, and by the way, I'm getting some stuff from the book too now, I hope you don't mind. I finally found a copy I could access!**

**I just _had_ to do the Howler bit. And it was so fun to write! Thanks for the reviews and everything! It's real cool of you guys.**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	14. Chapter 14

Professor Dumbledore sent all the Gryffindors back to the Great Hall. They were joined ten minutes later by the students from Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin, who all looked extremely confused.

"The teachers and I need to conduct a thorough search of the castle," the headmaster told them as Professors Mcgonagall and Flitwick closed all the doors in the hall. "I'm afraid that, for your own saftey, you will have to spend the night here. Prefects, stand guard by the entrances. I'm leaving the Head Boy and Head Girl in charge. Any disturbance should be reported to me immediately," he directed this last bit to Percy, who was looking immensely proud and important. "Send word with one of the ghosts."

On the way out, Professor Kirkland silently waved his wand. The long tables and chairs flew to the edges of the hall and stood themselves against the walls; another casual wave, and the floor was covered with hundreds of squashy purple sleeping bags.

"Sleep well," Professor Dumbledore said, closing the large doors behind him.

The hall immediately began to buzz excitedly as the Gryffindors told the rest of the school what just happened.

"Everyone into a sleeping bag!" Percy shouted above the din. "Come now, no more talking! Lights out in ten minutes!"

"C'mon." Ron said to his friends. They claimed some sleeping bags and dragged them to an isolated corner of the gigantic room.

"Do you think Black's still in the castle?" Hermione whispered anxiously.

"He might be, according to Dumbledore," Matthew said somberly.

"At least he picked tonight, when we weren't in the tower." Harry commented as they climbed into their sleeping bags.

"I reckon he's lost track of time, bein' on the run," Alfred said as he prepared his sleeping bag industriously, "If he realized it was Halloween, he would'a probably come bursting in here."

Hermione shuddered.

Around them, people asked the same question: 'How did he get in?'

"Maybe he can Apparate," said a Ravenclaw a bit away from them, "Appeared out of thin air, maybe."

"I think he disguised himself." a Hufflepuff fifth year said.

"He could've flown in," suggested Dean Thomas in response.

"Am I the only one who's read Hogwarts, A History?" Hermione demanded crossly to her four companions.

"Probably," Ron answered. "Why?"

Hermione settled into the familiar role as a lecturer,"Because, this castle's protected by much more than walls. There's enchantments to prevent people entering by stealth. A disguise wouldn't fool a Dementor, and he would've been seen flying in. Not to mention that Filch knows all the secret passages, they'll have them covered..."

"Lights out! No more talking!" Percy announced.

The candles went out all at once. the only light now came from the silvery ghosts, who were drifting about and speaking in serious undertones to the prefects. The enchanted ceiling looked like the night sky, scattered with stars.

Hermione and Ron quickly fell asleep. Harry laid on his side, listening to their steady breathing. His ears perked as he heard Matthew's hitch for a moment, before it continued at a steady pace.

Around three in the morning, when many of the students had fallen asleep, Professor Dumbledore came in.

"Any sign of him, Professor?" Percy asked in a whisper.

"No. All is well here?"

"Everything is under control, sir,"

"Good," Dumbledore nodded. "They can stay at the tower again starting tomorrow. I've found a temporary guardian for the Gryffindor portrait hole."

"And the Fat Lady, sir?"

"Hiding in a map of Argyllshire on the second floor," the headmaster responded grimly. "Apparently she refused to let Black in without a password, so he attacked. Once she's calmed down, I'll have Mr. Filch restore her."

The door creaked open again, followed by a new pair of footsteps.

"Headmaster?" It was Snape. Harry kept as still as he could, listening hard. "The whole of the third floor has been searched. He's not there. And Filch has done the dungeons; nothing there either."

"What of the Astronomy Tower? Professor Trelawney's room? The Owlery?"

"All searched."

"Very well, Severus. I really didn't expect Black to linger."

"Have do you any theory as to how he got in?" Snape asked.

Harry raised his head slightly off of his arms to hear better.

"Many, Severus. Each of them is equally unlikely."

Harry opened his eyes a bit and squinted up to where they stood; Dumbledore's back was to him, but he could see Percy's face rapt with attention, and Snape's angry profile.

"You do remember the conversation we had, Headmaster, just before-ah-the start of the term?" Snape said this through barely open lips, like he was trying to block Percy out of the conversation.

"Yes." Dumbledore responded in a warning tone.

"He must have had help getting into the school. I did express my concerns when you appointed those two-"

"Not a single person would have helped Black enter it." Dumbledore said resolutely. His tone made it clear that the subject was closed, so Snape remained silent. "I must go down to the Dementors." Dumbledore sighed resignedly, "I said I would inform them when our search was complete."

"Didn't they want to help, sir?" Percy asked.

"Oh yes," Dumbledore said coldly. "But I'm afraid no Dementor will cross the threshold of this castle while I am headmaster."

Percy looked slightly abashed. Dumbledore left the hall, walking quickly and quietly. Snape watched the headmaster leave with an expression of deep resentment on his face; then he too left.

* * *

Th next few weeks were awful. There was the annoying new portrait that was put in to replace the Fat Lady's, Sir Cadogan and his fat grey pony. He spent half the time challenging people to duels, and the rest thinking up ridiculously complicated passwords that he changed twice a day. Nobody liked him, but he was the only picture who would take the job after what had happened to the Fat Lady.

Harry also found himself being closely watched. Teachers found excuses to walk along corridors with him. Percy Weasley started to be like a pompous guard dog for Harry, trailing him everywhere and giving his friends dirty looks when they so much as approached him.

He did his best to ignore it. The Gryffindor team practiced harder than ever, under the eye of a vigilant Madam Hooch, who had been placed there under Mcgonagall's orders to keep an eye on Harry. The weather steadily worsened, but it didn't stop them. But bad news came at their final training session before Saturday's match.

"We aren't playing Slytherin!" Oliver Wood had angrily told the team. "Flint's just been to see me. Malfoy's still complaining about his arm, so we'll be playing Hufflepuff."

"Nothings wrong with his arm!" Harry said furiously.

"We can't prove that, though." Wood responded bitterly.

* * *

The next day, Harry and Matthew found themselves running late to Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Harry skidded to a halt and Matthew just caught up to him when he pulled the door open and dashed inside.

Harry stopped and glared at the teachers desk. Matthew nearly ran into him as he began to apologize breathlessly, "We're sorry, Professor Lupin. We-" The Canadian stopped as he finally noticed that it wasn't Lupin at the desk, but Snape.

"Williams, Potter. This lesson began ten minutes ago. So, we'll make it ten points from Gryffindor. Sit down."

Matthew joined his brother and Ron near the back of the room. But Harry didn't move.

"What's wrong with him?" Harry demanded.

Snape's black eyes shone maliciously, "Nothing life-threatening. Five more points from Gryffindor, and if I must ask you to sit down again, it will be fifty."

Harry walked slowly to his seat and sat down. Snape looked around the class, "As I was saying, turn to page 394." He stalked towards the back of the classroom and tapped his wand on an old fashioned projector.

"Werewolves?" Ron asked disbelievingly.

"But sir!" Hermione said, unable to restrain herself. "We've only began learning about Redcaps and Hinkypunks."

"Did you see her come in?" Alfred asked idly to no one in particular.

"Now," Snape said, "Can anyone tell me the difference between an Animagus and a Werewolf?"

Hermione raised her hand immediately.

"No one?" Snape sneered. "How disappointing."

"Please sir," Hermione said, "An Animagus is one who _elects_ to change it's form. A Werewolf has no choice."

"That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger," Snape said coolly. "Five more points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all."

This was an example of just how much the class loathed Snape as they glared at him. Everyone has called Hermione a know-it-all at least once. But from him, it was unacceptable.

"Hey!" Alfred hollered angrily. He's had enough of Snape. "You asked a question, and she knew the answer. Why'd you even ask if you didn't want to hear it?"

The class knew he had gone to far. Snape slowly advanced on Alfred, and the room held it's breath.

"Detention, Jones." Snape said silkily, his face very close to the American's. "And if I ever hear you criticize the way I teach again, you will be very sorry indeed."

Alfred's expression was stony as he said, "Get out of my face, prick."

Snape recoiled, giving a look of absolute disgust and loathing. "See me after class, Jones."

The rest of the lesson was miserable. No one made a sound as Snape moved up and down the rows, examining the work they'd done with Professor Lupin.

"Very poorly explained...That is incorrect, the kappa is more commonly found in Mongolia...Professor Lupin gave this an eight out of ten? I wouldn't have given it a three..."

The bell rang at last, but Snape held them back a moment.

"You will each write an essay, to be handed in to me, on he ways you recognize and kill werewolves. I want two rolls of parchment on the subject by Monday morning. It is time someone took this class in hand."

The class filed out, leaving Alfred and Snape alone in the room.

"What do you want?" Alfred asked neutrally.

"What are you?" Snape returned immediately.

The American cocked his head to the side, "What do you mean?"

"The way you carry yourself," Snape said, "I know you aren't a fourteen-year-old boy. Neither is your brother."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Alfred declared, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"What if I ask your brother?" Snape asked, his black eyes glittering.

Alfred shrugged, "He'll say the same thing that I am right now. You're crazy."

"We'll see about that," Snape vowed, his fists clenching, "You'll be scrubbing bedpans in the hospital wing for detention. _Without_ magic."

"Oh no," Alfred despaired mockingly, as he put his hands to his throat, "A muggleborn, doing things without magic! Whatever shall I do!" His hands dropped to his sides and his voice dripped with sarcasm. "I'll _try_ to pick up the pieces of my life and move on."

"Get out," Snape demanded angrily, pointing furiously at the exit.

The American gave a cheeky, "Can't touch this!" and ran off.

* * *

"He's never been like that with any of our other Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers, even if he did want the job," Harry said to Hermione. "Why's he got it in for Lupin? Do you think this is still about the Boggart?"

"I don't know," Hermione said pensively. "But I really hope Professor Lupin gets better soon..."

Alfred caught up with them five minutes later, in a surprisingly good mood.

"How did it go?" Matthew asked curiously.

"Oh, it's not to bad. I'll be scrubbing bedpans in the hospital wing. I'm actually surprised I got away with that much after...what I said to him," Alfred responded.

"What did you do now?" Ron asked. "But more importantly, what was the expression on his face when you were done?"

"I forget what I said exactly, but he looked down his nose and sneered so hard by the end of it, I thought it would get stuck!" Alfred declared happily.

"I thought it _was_ stuck that way!" Harry put in.

They all laughed.

* * *

**I finally finished this chapter. And for my next trick, I shall make another one appear from my left sleeve!**

**Thanks for all the reviews! I like 'em, I love 'em, I want some more of 'em, (if you don't mind, of course).**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	15. Chapter 15

Harry found himself woken up extremely early the next morning. Early enough that it was still dark. For a moment he speculated that the roaring wind outside had woken him. Then he felt a cold breeze on the back of his neck. He thrashed a bit in his bed, and saw Peeves the Poltergeist had been floating next to him, blowing hard in his ear. Harry lashed out at Peeves, knowing full well that it was futile. The annoying spirit grinned and silently sank into the floor.

Harry glanced at his alarm clock. It was half past four. He cursed Peeves and tried to get back to sleep, but was having a hard time thanks to the thunder rumbling overhead, the wind pounding against the castle walls, and the distant creaking of the trees in the Forbidden Forest. He exhaled silently, about ready to give up. But his hearing caught a whispered exchange between Alfred and Matthew.

"Mattie, you awake?" Alfred asked quietly.

Matthew could be heard turning over in his bed. "Ugh...what is it?" the sleepy Canadian asked his brother.

"I can't sleep." Alfred responded.

"What's wrong?" his brother pressed.

"Nothing," the American said obstinately.

"I don't believe you. Tell me what's wrong," Matthew insisted.

All was quiet for a moment.

"...I'm treated like a kid here," Alfred finally confided.

Harry could hear shifting as Matthew sat up in his bed. "You _are_ a kid here," he stated drily.

"It still feels weird," Alfred said.

"How so?" Matthew inquired. Harry could envision the Canadian's head cocking to the side, his odd curl bouncing.

Alfred sighed, "All I hear all day is, 'Respect your elders' or 'You'll understand someday' or 'Lad' or 'Child' or 'Boy'. Boy, boy, boy, all the time. The teachers, the ghosts...even the damn sorting hat. I haven't been called a boy this much since 1816!"

It was Matthew's turn to sigh. "You are a boy, to them. I don't like it either, but we have to live with it. At least for now," his voice took on a note of concern, "That can't be all."

Harry looked at Ron's figure in the bed next to him. His friend hadn't stirred.

"No, it's not. It's not even the worst of it. But let's not make this all about me." Alfred also sat up in his bed, "Something's bothering you too."

"Yes, but-" Matthew started.

Alfred's voice allowed for no argument, "Tell me."

"Well...the Dementors. They reminded me of...something," Matthew said evasively.

"What?" Alfred pressed.

"It's gone now. There's no need..."

"Matthew,"Alfred said warningly.

"_York,_" the Canadian finally exhaled. "I remembered York."

The American was quiet for a while. "...I'm sorry."

"It wasn't your fault. We were both caught up in the moment. We both did some things...said some things...things that shouldn't have been said," Matthew consoled.

"Then why does it still bother you?" Alfred asked.

"Why does it still bother _you_?" Matthew returned.

The American was silent.

"Then you _know_ why," Matthew said with finality. "But like I said, it's in the past. We need to move on from all of that, and focus on _now_."

"Okay." Alfred said. He made a huge yawn, "Wow, it's five o'clock. Imma go to bed, 'night Mattie," His face hit the pillow, and was snoring but five minutes later.

Matthew was awake for a while longer, but he eventually fell asleep as well.

Harry rose from the bed as quietly as he could. He got dressed, grabbed his Nimbus 2000, and made his way to the common room. Harry plopped into a cushiony chair by the fire, and pondered.

1816? York? What does it all mean? Does this have something to do with Sirius Black? He had many questions, but few answers. He sat like this for a while, but stirred as he heard the soft patter of padded feet make it's way past him. He bended down and grabbed Crookshanks by his bushy tail.

"Ron must've been on to something about you," Harry said to the orange feline. "There's plenty of other mice around, leave Scabbers alone."

The cat slunk away, leaving Harry alone again. Even with the storm, the Quidditch match wouldn't be cancelled. Nothing so trifling as a thunderstorm would call off such an event, but Harry still felt apprehensive. What if he was blown off course thanks to this weather?

Another hour passed, and he began to doze off. Apparently he was more tired than he thought...

_"Harry!"_

He nearly jumped out of his chair when he felt his shoulder getting shaken, "Wha..." He looked up to see none other than Hermione, with her hair mussed and the beginnings of bags under her eyes.

She plopped down on the chair beside him, brandishing a large, aged brown book in her hands. "You won't _believe_ what I just found!" She didn't wait for an answer as she opened the book and started flipping through the pages. She finally rested on a page with an aged photograph and tapped the page excitedly. "See?"

Harry leaned over to peer at the picture. It was a scene in black and white. Muggle pilots posed proudly in front of a WWII era bomber. "What? What's so odd about..." He stopped when he saw what Hermione was talking about.

A young-ish looking man grinned at them from the page. He wore a bomber jacket, like his companions. He also had a familiar cowlick and spectacles.

"But...that _can't_ be Alfred. This guy is at least twenty!" Harry said disbelievingly.

Hermione's eyes sparkled challengingly, "But the resemblance is uncanny, isn't it?" She flipped a few more pages, and landed on a page with a picture with the caption,_ 'The Paris Peace Conference'. _The picture centered on a neat man with slicked back hair shaking hands with...

"Professor _Kirkland_?" Harry gasped, "How old _is_ he exactly?"

Hermione shut the book and Harry glimpsed the title, _'The Muggle World in WWII'. _She got up, "I don't know, but I _will_ find out. I'll see you in a bit." She trudged back up the stairs, and vanished into the girl's dormitory.

Harry slumped back into his chair and glanced at a ticking grandfather clock that stood inconspicuously against a wall. It would be time to go to breakfast soon. Just a half-hour more, and he would officially begin his day.

And he would officially begin to investigate Alfred, Matthew, and Professor Kirkland.

* * *

**Yeah, I know. It's been a while. I've had practically NO TIME since school started up again. Even now I'm posting this from a library computer because I can't go home yet. But I never abandon a story, so I'll find a way. I'll try to get back into things soon, but updates may take longer than the should. You have been warned.**

**Thanks for sticking with this story and giving me feedback and encouragement. I truly appreciate it guys.**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	16. Chapter 16

"Is he okay out there?" Matthew asked worriedly as he watched Harry duck and dive around players he could hardly see in the rain.

Ron, who was right next to him, looked through his binoculars. "I don't know," he shouted in response, "He almost ran into that bloke there. It's like he's blind!"

Alfred's voice carried easily over the whipping wind and thunder as he yelled, "He prob'ly can't see through his glasses in this weather!"

"Would it be wrong for me to hope he accidently swallows the Snitch again?" Ron inquired sullenly, "I don't want to be out here all day-oh, I think Wood just called for a time out!"

"I have a bad feeling about this..." Matthew whispered conspiratorially in his brother's ear. Alfred nodded silently.

Hermione, who was huddled under her cloak against the rain, straightened suddenly, "I have an idea!" She got up from her seat.

"Can I come with you?" Alfred asked suddenly, "I want to see how he's doing!"

Hermione nodded, "Let's go, then!"

Alfred got up and followed Hermione.

"Are they even allowed to step onto the field during a game?" Matthew inquired as he watched the form of Hermione and his brother run across the marshy field in the rain.

Ron shrugged, "It's not really covered in the rules." He went back to watching the proceedings through his binoculars.

* * *

"Heya, Harry!" Alfred said cheerfully as he and Hermione approached the huddle of Gryffindor players, "How're you doin'?"

"What are you doing here?" Alicia Spinnet, a Gryffindor chaser demanded.

"Oh, leave them be, Alicia," the Weasley twins said simultaneously.

"It's not like we're playing right now." Fred stated dismissively.

"Or at least playing well." George added slyly.

Harry shook his head, ignoring the exchange between is teammates, "I can hardly see with these things!" He gestured to his rain-splattered glasses.

"Give those here," Hermione said as she pulled out her wand. The assembled team watched in awe of she tapped the glasses' rim and said, "_Impervius!_" she handed them back to Harry, "Now they'll repel the water!"

Wood looked like he would kiss her, but instead he shouted to his team, "Okay! let's go!"

* * *

Matthew tugged on Ron's sleeve urgently.

"What?" Ron asked irritatedly. The game was just starting up again!

Matthew pointed in the air and to the left, "Look!"

Ron followed Matthew's finger to meet with a disturbing sight. Dementors. Hundreds of them in the air, watching the Gryffindor team with a suspicious amount of interest...

Hermione's voice could be heard as she rejoined them on the bleachers, "I'm back!" She sat down next to Matthew, "I enchanted his glasses to repel water!"

Ron smiled gratefully, Dementors forgotten, "Sometimes it's good that you're smart!"

Hermione huffed and reached over to smack a snickering Ron on the arm.

Matthew tapped both of their shoulders, "Have you forgotten the Dementors in the air?"

"Dementors?!" Hermione gasped, her hands flying up to her mouth despite herself.

Matthew gestured towards the Dementors again, "Yes, they're not really doing anything right now though...hey, where's Alfred?"

"He insisted upon staying behind!" Hermione answered.

The conversation was interrupted when people in the stands began to shout, some even screaming. The Dementors swarmed around Harry, there was a flash of lightning, and Harry was leaving a trail of smoke as he plummeted towards the ground. A figure darted out from the side of the field, straight towards the boy.

"Is that Alfred?!" Ron asked.

"What is he _doing_?" Hermione demanded shrilly, "He couldn't possibly-!"

Alfred held out his arms and caught Harry easily, as if he was just catching pillow thrown from above. Madam Hooch and several other teachers ran to meet the two boys. Alfred handed a limp Harry off to Professor Lupin, who carried Harry off towards the infirmary. Professor Dumbledore seemed to regard Alfred curiously, then pat him on the back and followed Lupin off the field.

"Is that Professor Kirkland?" Hermione asked.

Ron peered closely at the scene, "I'd know those eyebrows anywhere."

Kirkland, clad in emerald robes as usual, swept onto the field. He made a beeline towards Alfred, who regarded the history of Magic teacher with his arms crossed. Kirkland said something to him, and the boy shrugged. The blond teacher turned on his heel and beckoned Alfred to follow him.

"I'd better go see what they're doing." Matthew said. He got up and left the two Gryffindors to their own devices.

Ron looked at Hermione, and Hermione looked at Ron. Ron scratched his head, "Wait...Harry was falling rather fast..."

Hermione nodded, following his line of thought, "Alfred wasn't even hurt..."

"He was rather fast too...running out there. Like the devil himself," Ron added speculatively.

Hermione gathered herself to go, "Well, everyone's leaving. Let's go see Harry, he should be in the infirmary by now."

* * *

"You shouldn't have drawn so much attention to yourself, Alfred!" Arthur scolded, his dark eyebrows furrowing angrily.

Alfred shoved his hands in his pockets. "Well what was I supposed to do? Let him fall?" Alfred demanded.

"The ground was soft, he would've been fine!" Arthur shot back. He brushed a hand through his hair tiredly, "What am I going to _do_ with you?" The green eyed man began to pace the room, "Dumbledore has been breathing down my neck for weeks, and Severus is hovering around me every chance he can get! This doesn't help my case, Alfred!"

"You said to keep an eye Harry Potter. That's what we're doing," Matthew defended, "Alfred was following orders in the best way he could."

"Oh, yes," Arthur scoffed, "By being 'The Hero' as usual!" He stopped pacing, "This isn't a comic book Alfred!"

Alfred set his jaw and stood nose-to-chest with Arthur, "Well it's sure lookin' like one _sick_ fairy tale. I didn't want to _b_e here in the first place!"

Arthur stepped back, "'You're telling me you _still_ don't believe in magic? You're telling me that this is all a fairy tale? That it's just a silly dream?"

"No," Alfred said, "But I wish it was!" He turned on his heel and marched stiffly out of the room.

Matthew looked on as Arthur glared at the door until it was completely shut, and then deflated, collapsing into a nearby chair.

"What is _wrong_ with that boy?" Arthur muttered, "I remember him being absolutely in love with every aspect of magic when he was little. Then I left for home one day and came back half a year later to see he refused to believe it!"

Matthew shrugged, "I didn't see him much back then, but I know a lot can change in six months."

"But what changed?" Arthur sighed, "If only I knew!"

Matthew frowned, "Whatever it is, it's been bothering him even more lately since the boggart."

The Englishman perked up, "Boggart? There was a boggart?"

Matthew nodded, "Yes. He saw what looked like a dusty victim of the Great Depression blaming him for the absence of soup in her pot. Then he saw a..." Matthew's eyes widened as he figured it out, "Oh, I get it now."

Arthur leaned forward, "What is it? What did he see?"

Matthew shook his head, "I think I know what happened in that six month gap to make him hate magic. But this...it's up to him to tell you."

* * *

**Alright, I got another chapter out. Everyone please take a moment to celebrate this. I'll wait.**

**...**

**...**

**Okay then. Thanks so much for the follows, favorites, and reviews. I like to see people enjoying what I write, and I love to get your guy's feedback. **

**Later dudes! ^J^**


	17. Chapter 17

The first thing Harry heard when he woke up was Fred Weasley's voice, "Peaky? He fell over fifty feet! Let's throw you off the astronomy tower and see how you look, Ronald."

Harry found the strength to smile. He was safe, and away from the Dementors. "I bet he'd look a quite a bit better than he normally does," Harry croaked out hoarsely as he opened his eyes.

Harry was met with the smiling faces of his closest friends. Alfred and Matthew on his left, Ron and Hermione on his right. Neville, his face half-painted in red, was there too, along with the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

"How are you feeling?" Hermione asked, her face showing clear signs of worry.

"Brilliant!" Harry reassured as he sat up in the bed and looked around. He was in the infirmary. His glasses sat on the bedside table next to him. He looked down at himself and noticed that someone had changed him out of his Quidditch clothes and into a red sweater and pants. He briefly wondered who that was, but quickly expelled the thought from his mind as he asked, "What happened?"

"You fell off your broom!" Fred Weasley supplied.

"Gave us a right good scare, mate," George added.

"Alfred caught you, though," Neville said happily, "He even made it look easy!"

"Really?" Harry asked. He had more important things on his mind though, "I meant the match. Who won?"

Matthew fidgeted uncomfortably, "Eh...we lost...sorry."

"No one blames you, Harry," Hermione added quickly, "Dementors aren't even supposed to enter school grounds. Dumbledore was furious! He sent them straight off!"

"There's something else," Ron said hesitatingly. He stepped forward and Harry saw what looked like a pile of twigs wrapped in his Quidditch cloak.

Harry raised an eyebrow. What could kindling have to do with...

"Your broom blew into the Whomping Willow and well..." Ron paused as he withdrew a burnt stick that had a familiar gold lettering on one end, "... you know the Whomping Willow, it...it doesn't like to get hit.

Harry looked at the remnants of his once beautiful broomstick in dismay. He felt like he'd lost an old friend.

* * *

"Oh, he looked absolutely devastated," Ron said sadly.

"He'll be back in class on Monday," Matthew said, "Things will be better then."

The three friends went into the Great Hall for dinner that evening. Hermione decided it was a good time to get some answers out of Alfred and Matthew.

"Matthew, I'm curious," Hermione said, leaning over the table towards him, "Where were you born?"

Matthew glanced almost pleadingly at his brother, who apparently hadn't heard and was chatting happily with another student. He looked back at the bushy haired girl nervously, "I-I was born in...Quebec."

"Quebec? How interesting," Hermione said, raising an eyebrow at his hesitation. She continued, "What year were you born?"

Now Matthew looked at her oddly, "Same year as you, of course." He elbowed his brother in the ribs to get his attention.

Alfred twisted in his seat and surveyed the scene curiously, "Bro?"

Hermione immediately set after the American. "Alfred, what year were you born?"

Alfred, was silent for a brief moment. He then turned on a hollywood smile and said, "1980, same as you. Why?"

Hermione ignored his inquiry as she continued her interrogation. "Were you born in Canada?"

Alfred, instead of answering, cocked his head, "Why?"

"Because," Hermione said, "You're twins. Matthew says he was born in Canada, so you must have been too."

Alfred seemed at a loss for a moment, but recovered quickly, "Well, yeah...it's not a fact that I telegraph usually because well...I was raised in America, and my citizenship is there."

Hermione leaned back again in her seat, surprised. "Oh...I suppose I could understand that..."

"You don't really strike me as a Canadian bloke, anyway," Ron added.

Alfred flashed a smile. "Thanks, guys," He suddenly stretched his arms out above his head. "Oh, I'm tired!" he yawned and glanced over at his brother, "_Mattie_, you look tired _too_! Let's go, talk at ch'all later." He grabbed Matthew's arm and casually beat a hasty retreat.

Hermione looked at the space Alfred previously occupied in silence. She noticed that, oddly enough, his plate still had food on it. That's not like him at all. She glanced at Ron and noticed the redhead had forgotten the exchange completely, having dismissed the issue as solved. She would not give up so easily. Something just doesn't add up, she just couldn't put her finger on what.

* * *

Alfred steered his brother out of the Great Hall as quickly as possible without raising suspicion. He didn't stop until he found a deserted hallway where not even the paintings could overhear them.

"This is bad," Matthew stated worriedly as he turned to face his brother.

Alfred nodded. "I hate to say it, but Arthur was right. We need to lay low for a while. Something tipped that girl off and she won't stop digging unless we can prove to her that we're just _normal_, teenage wizardlings from North America."

Matthew resisted the urge to stomp his foot on the ground exasperatedly, "But we _aren't_ normal, teenage wizardlings from North America! We _are_ North A-"

_"Shut up!"_ Alfred shushed urgently, "Even here we might be-" He paused for a second and then sagged his shoulders, looking defeated. "...crap." He turned around to face one end of the hallway.

Matthew looked, but didn't see anything. "What?"

"Malfoy," Alfred sighed.

At the mention of his name, the Slytherin boy stepped from behind a column he slowly raised his hands and...

_"Don't,"_ Alfred interrupted, raising a warning finger, "Don't you _dare_ clap slowly. Nor are you allowed to say a cliched line, or snap your fingers to summon henchmen."

Malfoy's eyes narrowed as he folded his arms, "I hardly think you're in a position to make demands of me."

"Oh no," Alfred responded, "The cheesy-ass 'convenient appearance' crap got old in the 1970's. I'm saving myself from dying of over-dramatization."

Matthew snickered as the Slytherin boy openly stared, not having expected such a reaction. He blinked and regained his customary smirk, "I just thought I'd let you know that my father is not pleased with how I've been treated by a certain insolent American here at this school." His smile somehow grew even greasier as he said, "I am going to expose you, and there's _nothing_ you can do about it. Unless," he stopped for a moment, presumably to build tension, and then continued. "Unless, you are willing to face me in a wizard's duel, on the Quidditch field next Saturday night say, eleven o'clock."

Alfred scowled darkly, "Fine, I'll be there. But I don't wanna see your face until then."

"Alfred, you don't have too," Matthew pleaded.

Rather than responding the American simply gestured invitingly towards Malfoy, "I believe it's your turn?"

Matthew smiled mildly at his brother, "Come to think of it, yes." He turned to face Malfoy squarely, who saw something in the Canadian's face to make him flinch back.

"What do you mean, it's his turn?" Malfoy demanded.

Alfred shrugged, "Mattie here would simply like to ah..._express_ his feelings about you blackmailing us."

Malfoy looked between the nonchalant Alfred and suddenly frightening Matthew, and decided it would be wise to leave. Matthew let him get about ten yards before he chased after him. Alfred waved happily and called, "See you later, bro!" He turned in the other direction and whistled a happy show-tune as he made his way towards the common room. This would probably bite them in the ass later, he decided, but it was _so_ worth it to see the look on that evil boy's face.

* * *

Arthur watched Alfred and Matthew leave curiously. What are they doing? He also noticed that unsavory Slytherin boy...Malfoy, wasn't it? Well, Malfoy apparently decided to take his leave directly after Alfred and Matthew did. Coincidence? Most certainly not. The Englishman's musings were interrupted by a voice he'd come to hate in his time here.

"Something on your mind, Kirkland?" Snape asked idly.

Arthur's lip curled slightly in displeasure. "It's none of your business as to what's on my mind, Severus."

The black-clad professor seemed taken aback and slightly insulted by the sudden and too-casual use of his first name. Arthur enjoyed the man's discomfort.

The dinner continued in relative silence for a while. The cackling tension was almost palpable when Mcgonagall finally decided to step in.

"Arthur, I hear you've had experience with the old-styled wands with charms attached to the end. Are they different from modern wands in practical use?"

Arthur turned to Mcgonagall and smiled, "Why yes, when casting with an older wand, one must..."

Snape watched as the two conversed. He studied Arthur in particular through half-lidded eyes. He watched how the young man spoke with eloquence that signified a nobler background, and how he carried himself with the air of someone immensely important. Throughout the school year, Arthur has spoken of many things at dinners and in the lounges with assorted teachers. He spoke of being on speaking terms with the centaurs, how he's met certain creatures of the fae that were thought to have been truly gone. He's even mentioned being introduced to Thor himself by a friend of his while in the United States.

Snape wondered why Thor, the god of thunder, would ever be in America of all places. But more importantly, he wondered how a man so young could have had more experiences than wizards twice his age.

The dark-haired teacher glanced out towards the students, who were finally starting to trickle out of the hall and off to bed. _Finally_! he was beginning to think that the children would never leave.

* * *

**I have completed yet another chapter! Mostly because it's too hot out to do anything else! Yaay! And contrary to what one might think, there was actually _some_ plot development, so have no fear. I needed the stuff in this chapter to happen in order to move on.**

**Thanks for all the reviews and stuff, each word of encouragement makes my day a little brighter. **

**Later dudes. ^J^ **


	18. Chapter 18

That Monday, as promised by Madam Pomfrey, Harry returned to his classes. He was happy for the distraction from recent events. This was the second time he had seen the grim. And it was the second time he had nearly died for it. Was that thing going to haunt him for the rest of his life?

That wasn't the only thing, though. He's been getting nightmares lately. He always woke with a yelp and a cold sweat, left with the terrible impressions of rotten hands and petrified pleading. It was the Dementors' fault, he knew. He hated them. He felt sick at even the briefest mention of Dementors. Everyone agreed that they were horrible creatures, but no one else collapsed whenever one was near. No one else hears the echos of the screams of their dying parents...

_Except maybe Alfred and Matthew, of course. _

Harry shook his head and chuckled bitterly as he made his way to class. He didn't know what they saw on the train that night, but it must have been at_ least _as bad as his own visions if Matthew's expression was anything to go by.

The black-haired boy sighed as he approached the door to Potions class. Malfoy was there, celebrating the liberation of his 'wounded' arm by doing a parodied impression of Harry's fall off of his broom. "Oh, you should have seen him!" Malfoy said gleefully to a group of Slytherin students, "He took one look at the Dementor and was so afraid that he decided he'd rather fall to his death than face it. And then his pitiful excuse for a broom blew away and was reduced to twigs by the Whomping Willow. The best part is that his cowardly blunder caused Gryffindor the game!"

Harry tried to ignore this and slip past anonymously, but one of the Slytherin girls suddenly pointed right at him. "Oh, look!" the girl laughed, "There's the idiot coward now!"

Harry sagged his shoulders and turned to face the group. When his eyes alighted on his nemisis's face though, he smiled. "What happened to your face?"

Malfoy's expression turned from terribly smug to morbidly embarassed as he tried to cover his forehead and left eye. "Nothing to concern yourself with, _Potter_," he said neutrally.

Harry pressed his advantage. "That doesn't look like nothing to me," he said with mock concern. "Why, you have a black eye! And something's on your forehead too...it looks a lot like a scar, a lot like _my_ scar..." Harry's grin grew wider as he said, "I didn't know you were a fan!"

Malfoy's pale face became tinged with red as he gave up trying to cover his face and stepped towards the Gryffindor boy menacingly. "Now see _here_-ah!" The beginning of what would've been an angry tirade was interrupted by a yelp of pain as Malfoy was doubled over slightly by an iron grip clamping onto his shoulder.

Harry looked behind the Slytherin boy to see none other than Alfred squeezing Malfoy's shoulder. "No autographs folks, I know you're a fan, but superstar here has to get to class and would rather not be hampered by his..." Alfred coughed into his other hand, "Adoring fans."

The group quickly dispersed, leaving Harry, Alfred, and Malfoy in relative privacy in the corridor. Alfred squeezed a bit tighter, eliciting another cry of pain from Malfoy. "I _told_ you I didn't want to see you again until Saturday. And I don't like it when someone doesn't respect my wishes."

"Let go of me! My father will hear about this!" Malfoy squirmed under Alfred's hold.

The American regarded him for a moment more. "I do hope this isn't your wand arm, it wouldn't make good sport if you were ah..._injured_ again." He finally let go of Malfoy, who shot one last glare over his shoulder as he disappeared into the potions classroom.

Harry watched him go with a feeling somewhere between horrified and gleeful. He looked back Alfred, who was acting as if that hadn't just happened.

"What's going on, Saturday?" Harry asked.

"Oh, just a duel thing that Malfoy challenged me with before Matthew did a number on 'im," Alfred responded casually. Before Harry could even begin to ask, the American strode into potions class.

* * *

Harry was curious to say the least. He hadn't had the chance to speak to Alfred or Matthew during potions class. Snape was in an especially bad mood, since Ron had thrown a crocodile heart at Malfoy. He took fifty points from Gryffindor for it. Harry resolved to speak with them during their next class, History of Magic.

* * *

"Professor?" Hermione asked as she raised her hand.

Professor Kirkland looked away from the chalkboard to regard the girl. "Yes, Miss Granger?"

Hermione put her hand down and read off of her paper, "Am I correct in saying that the temporary invisibility charm was created by an unnamed wizard during the Roman Inquisition in Florence?"

Kirkland nodded, "Why, yes. You would. But be careful with your wording on that one. While the invisibility _charm _was created in the era you describe, it was not the first case of invisibility ever known in magic. An invisibility _cloak_ is a prime example of this, for those came about long before the charm did. Not to mention invisibility _wards_, which have been around for nearly as long as anyone can remember."

Hermione nodded as she scribbled something in her notes. "Thank you, sir."

Harry decided that now was as good a time as any to get some answers out of Alfred and Matthew. He tore a piece of parchment apart as quietly as possible so as not to alert the teacher. He dipped his quill in the ink and wrote:

_'What's the story w/Malfoy? -H.P.'_

He folded it into a small square, wrote Alfred's name on it, and passed it to Ron. He passed it to Seamus, who passed it to George, who passed it to Fred, who, in a stroke of common sense, skipped over Hermione and passed it to the next nearest Gryffindor. This happened to be Neville, who was able to give it directly to Alfred because he sat right next to him.

Alfred unfolded the message and read it through. He folded it back up and put it under his book. He tore a piece of paper of his own and wrote on it, folded it up, and gave it to Neville, who gave it to Fred, who passed it to George, who passed it to Seamus, who gave it to Ron, who delivered it to Harry.

Harry unfolded it to see in a bold, heavy hand,**_'I don't like him. -A.F.J'_**

Harry sighed inwardly and prepared another note. _'Elaborate? -H.P.'_

Harry coughed to cover a laugh at the response. _**'He challenged me to a duel, and circumstance forced me to accept. Mat didn't like that and decorated his face. -A.F.J'**_

_'He did that? -H.P.'_

**_'Yep. -A.F.J'_**

_'Brilliant! What's that circumstance you mentioned? -H.P.'_

**_'A private matter I'd rather not get into. -A.F.J'_**

As Harry found he needed more paper to inquire further, he turned around to get into his bag and get some. He came face-to-face with dark green robes. He looked up to meet the matching eyes and blond hair of Professor Kirkland, who turned out to be right behind his seat.

"Mr. Potter," Kirkland said in a flat tone. He exhaled and continued, "Who was the correspondant?"

After a moment of tension, Harry spilled."Alfred, sir." The Gryffindor boy waited for a decree of punishment, for he knew how the professor felt about passing notes in class.

Professor Kirkland was silent for a few seconds before he finally said, "Both of you, see me after class." He turned on his heel and made his way back towards the front of the room, and continued class without alluding to the situation again for the rest of the hour.

The bell rang, eventually, and students began to pack their things away and trickle out of the classroom. Harry joined Alfred, who was already at the teacher's front desk. The moment the door closed on the last student, Professor Kirkland addressed them both.

"What was so terribly important that you felt the need to discuss it covertly in class?" the Englishman asked.

Alfred was the first to speak. "Harry wanted to know what's happened since he ws in the infirmary over the weekend."

"And?" Kirkland directed towards Harry.

"Nothing else important, really." the Gryffindor boy responded guardedly. He didn't know what the professor would think of his charge being in a duel.

"You're not telling me everything, that much I know," Kirkland said with a raised eyebrow. He sighed and looked at Alfred again. "Just tell me what this is all about!"

The American looked up at his caretaker with a neutral expression. "Something I need to take care of, that's all."

"Alfred," Kirkland said warningly, "Don't lie to me anymore."

Alfred narrowed his eyes. "I'm not lying, I'm just not telling you everything."

"Well, I think you're leaving out something rather important," the professor pressed.

"You don't know that, and you _won't_ know that," Alfred folded his arms. "It's none of your business."

Kirkland's voice raised slightly as he clenched and unclenched his hands. "Stop acting like such a child!"

"I'm not telling you, so get off my ass about it!" Alfred shot back. "This is exactly why I left you in the first place!

Kirkland shook a fist. "I swear to _God _Alfred I'll-"

Alfred cut him off with a slice of his hand. "What will you do exactly?" he fairly snarled. "Spank me? Lock me away? _Try me_."

Harry suddenly felt like an intruder. He obviously wasn't meant to hear this. The dark haired boy coughed into his hand to remind the two of his presence.

Professor Kirkland's head whirred in his direction, and Alfred suddenly found the floor very interesting. Kirkland straightened and forced himself to calm down. "Well," he said. "Since I m evidently not getting anything from either of you, I will look the other way and we will forget this ever happened. Agreed?"

Alfred nodded and dragged a slightly confused Harry by the arm out of the classroom. Neither said a word until they were a ways away from the classroom. Alfred gave Harry an apologetic look. "Sorry you had to see that, dude."

"What was all that about?" Harry asked. "It went from covering up the duel to a familial row in the stretch of a sentence!"

Alfred shrugged. "Well, we just don't get along all the time. And I hate to admit this, but the stress has been gettin' to me lately. Artie isn't much better at this point either."

"Oh, alright then," Harry responded. He decided to leave it at that. he didn't want to say what he really thought. That argument was obviously beyond simple stress. "Isn't our next class Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

"Yeah," Alfred said. "I just hope it's not Snape this time." He made an exaggerated shudder to drive the point of his displeasure home.

Harry laughed along, trying to figure out the enigma of the third year walking next to him.

* * *

**Another chapter has been completed. Although I sense this story may be longer than I previously expected, given the pace things are going. Oh, and congratulations to those who caught my shameless Avengers reference in the last chapter! ;)**

**Thanks for sticking around through this story, and thanks so much for leaving evidence of your presence through reviews, favorites, and follows!**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	19. Chapter 19

Harry was happy to see Lupin teaching the class again. The professor looked like he had only recently recovered from an illness of some sort. For his clothes hung off of him more loosely than usual and he had dark circles under his eyes. Nevertheless, he smiled at the class and patiently listened to their complaints about Snape.

"He was just filling in, why should he give us homework?"

"We don't know anything about werewolves-"

"-two rolls of parchment!"

Lupin gave a light frown as he asked the class, "Did you tell Professor Snape that we haven't covered them yet?"

The class broke into a babble of complaints again.

"Yes, but he said we were behind-"

"-he wouldn't listen-"

"_-two rolls of parchment!_"

The professor smiled at the look of indignation on everyone's face. "You don't have to do the essay," he said. "I'll speak to Professor Snape about it."

Everyone was relieved to hear this. Except for Hermione of course, who was upset at having done the essay already. The rest of the lesson was very enjoyable. Lupin had brought along a glass box containing a hinkypunk, a frail and rather harmless looking one-legged creature with the appearance of smoke. Matthew's bear tried to break the box in order to get to the hinkypunk and eat it, but the boy managed a levitation spell that kept the box from breaking. Lupin gave him extra credit for that.

The bell rang and the class packed their things to leave. Harry chatted happily with his friends as they planned on a trip to the library for studying. but Lupin called him back.

"I'd like a word Harry, " Lupin called, "If you don't mind."

"No worries mate, we'll meet you at the common room," Ron said with a shrug.

"We'll totally hang out then," Alfred reassured.

Harry nodded and doubled back to speak to Lupin as the professor covered the glass box with a black cloth.

* * *

"What do you think they're talking about?" Matthew asked curiously as they left the two alone.

"I don't know. But whatever it is, we'll hear about it if it's important," Ron said confidently.

Alfred suddenly perked up. "Speaking of important," he said, "Mattie-bro, I need you to be my second for that thingy."

Matthew just nodded as Hermione raised an eyebrow. "What 'thingy'? Why do you need a second?"

"Oh, I just have some business to ah, _discuss_, with Malfoy on Saturday," Alfred shrugged.

"Business?" Ron asked.

"Like a _duel_, maybe?" Hermione asked, figuring it out. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I don't know how things are done in America, but I probably don't need to tell you that you can get in some _serious_ trouble for this."

Alfred gave a smile and a wink, "But thats the fun in it, darlin'!"

The Gryffindor girl took the liberty of swatting Alfred on the arm. "Don't call me that!" she chided irritatedly.

The American raised his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. Just thought it'd be funny."

Ron's mouth turned down into a slight frown. "A duel's no joke, mate," he said seriously.

"And I've only seen you use your wand successfully three times this year," Hermione pointed out.

"Well, that's why I've got Mattie here!" Alfred said cheerfully, hooking his brother into his arm and shaking his shoulder.

The Canadian's brow furrowed slightly. "Don't expect me to bail you out of this Alfred," he said.

Alfred laughed. "Oh, don't be such a worry-wart! I'm always the one doing the bailing."

Matthew rolled his eyes. "Riiiiight."

* * *

Harry left Lupin's classroom feeling lighter. If things went well, he wouldn't ever have to hear his mother's death again. He made his way towards the Common Room, figuring that since he had no classes left, he might as well. He entered the portrait hole to meet with an interesting sight. Hermione sat in a cushioned chair by the fire, as did Ron. Matthew and Alfred were both on their feet though, facing each other with wands out. Matthew made a bow, while Alfred just inclined his head and got into a defensive position-

"No, no, no!" Hermione said, "That's not right. You have to _bow_ towards your opponent, Alfred. Then you need to bring your wand out where everyone can see it."

Alfred's shoulders slumped momentarily. He straightened again and gave Hermione an odd look. "Why the hell would I do that? That's probably the _worst_ move anyone could make in a fight!"

"It's considered respectful towards the opponent," Hermione explained, "Like you see them as an equal." She glanced back to see Harry standing there and bade him to join them.

Harry sat down in a nearby chair to observe the spectacle before him. "What's this?"

Hermione leaned forward in her seat. "I read up on American dueling etiquette. While fascinating, many things acceptable over _there_, would not be acceptable _here_. I figured Alfred would need help."

Harry gave her a sideways glance. "So...you found out about the duel?"

Hermione nodded grimly. "Yes, and I heartily disapprove. But, since I can't stop this bonehead, I will at least prepare him." She waved a hand at the twins, "Try again, but bow this time, and use the stance I showed you earlier! None of this outrageous Wild West rubbish you've been doing."

Matthew snickered and Alfred shot him an evil look. Both brothers arranged themselves again.

The Canadian smiled at him, "Come on, cowboy. I don't want to be here all night." He gave a graceful bow and gained a stance right out of the textbook.

"But that _is_ a duel at my place," Alfred grumbled, withdrawing his wand and giving a stiff bow. He straightened himself and raised his left hand-

"No, no, no!" Hermione scolded.

Harry smiled, they really _were_ going to be there all night.

* * *

That Friday, the group of friends entered the History of Magic classroom to find Professor Kirkland missing.

"Where'd he go?" Ron asked to no one in particular as he sat down.

"Maybe he has something to do, I'm sure he'll be back momentarily," Hermione responded as she withdrew a quill pen and parchment from her bag. "I believe that he was going to finish off telling us about the Celts today."

Alfred leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. "That's all well and good, but I wouldn't object to having the whole class to do nothing."

"You _already_ do nothing in this class," Matthew snorted.

"...You have a point. But I can't be yelled at if he's not here," Alfred retorted.

Matthew looked like he was about to respond, but was interrupted by the door to the large classroom door banging open. None other than Professor Kirkland strode in, with none other than Professor Snape on his heels.

"I need to speak with you Kirkland," Snape said irritatedly. He evidently did not like having to chase anyone around.

Kirkland waved him off dismissively. "Not now, Severus! I have a class. Stop hounding me and find something better to do. If you need to bother someone, you can go haunt Dumbledore. I'm sure he'd _love_ to hear your ridiculous conspiracy theories."

The severe professor stopped, straightening his robes and exhaling through his hooked nose. "I do not 'haunt' things, Mr. Kirkland. This is a matter of relative importance, concerning one of my students, and one of your...charges."

Kirkland turned to face Snape with narrowed green eyes. "How about _after_ my class? When I don't have anything _better_ to do?"

The Potions professor nearly recoiled at the blond man's venom. He turned on his heel and stalked out of the classroom. The classroom of Gryffindors bursting into barely stifled giggles obviously didn't help his mood.

An overjoyed Ron leaned back and mocked wiping a tear from his eye, "Ah, what beautiful poetry."

Harry grinned. That was another point chalked up to Professor Kirkland in his book. He glanced over to see a smiling Alfred say something to Matthew, who nodded knowingly. As the laughter died down, Kirkland gained control of the class again.

He clapped his hands together to get everyone's attention. "Alright, alright. Settle down now, we have work to do." He pulled out his wand and script wrote itself on the board.

Class went without incident and the teacher made no mention of Snape. Although a few students were sure to make sure he knew how happy they were about the whole thing.

"Great job, Professor!" Seamus shouted as he left for his next class.

"Thank you, sir," Neville said with a small smile as he followed.

Kirkland smiled tiredly at all of these. For he was sure that Snape would be back any minute now since class was over.

* * *

Much to the Englishman's chagrin, he was correct in his assumptions.

Snape swept into the room, yet again. His expression was one of intense displeasure. "Kirkland," he said as if the very name made him sick.

Said professor glanced up from his papers. "Severus," he said with equal distaste.

"Stop calling me that. Only my friends call me Severus," the morbid teacher sniffed.

"Oh, please. You have no friends," Arthur retorted. He noticed the taller man's finger twitch towards his wand, and smiled to himself. Apparently Snape didn't appreciate that.

"Moving on," Snape stated with finality. "I came here on business. A student of mine, Draco Malfoy has informed me that Alfred F. Jones challenged him to a wizard's duel, and then Matthew Williams drew on his face and gave him a black eye directly afterwards."

Arthur regarded the teacher coolly as Severus continued, even more smugly than before.

"I am simply here to let you know that I have already informed Dumbledore of the matter, and he said he would deal with it. Especially since you have shown blatant favoritism-"

_"Favoritism?"_ Arthur interrupted disbelievingly. "The man who takes house points away from students just for being in a specific house is accusing me of favoritism?" He chuckled humorlessly at the pure irony before setting an ice gaze on Snape. "Get out. I don't want to see you in my classroom again."

Snape, to his credit, maintained his composure. If only barely. Something about that gaze...being rejected by Arthur Kirkland in particular...felt _wrong_. But Severus wouldn't let Kirkland know that. He turned about and made straight for the door, refusing to look back.

* * *

**Allllrighty then. I finally completed this chapter. Things'll pick up in the next one, I promise.**

**Thanks for all the love this story has gotten do far! It's really cool of you guys.**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	20. Chapter 20

The next day, all Harry could think about was Alfred's duel. He had a bad feeling about the whole situation, remembering how Malfoy played him a while back and nearly got him into trouble with the caretaker, Mr. Filch. He told Alfred as much in the common room.

"Oh, no worries. If he's a no-show I'll book it right back here real quick, Filch won't even know I was ever there," the American laughed.

Matthew shot his brother a skeptical look. "That's like what you said when you thought it would be a good idea to switch Ludwig's beer and Ivan's vodka while they were forced to sing a duet at a Karaoke bar."

Ron had walked up just in time to hear Matthew's response and gave Alfred a curious look. "I kind of want to hear that one. What happened?"

Alfred rubbed the back of his head. "Um...it's classified."

"Classified?" the redhead scoffed. "Well that's no fun!"

The blond boy shrugged. "Nothing I can do 'bout that, dude."

"I'll let it slide, then. For now. I'll get it out of you one day," Ron promised.

Alfred checked the grandfather clock against the wall. He grinned almost cheerily and heaved to his feet. "Well, it's almost time! Mattie-bro, come on. You're my second."

"Can I come with you?" Harry asked suddenly.

"Why?" Matthew asked. "If it's a trick, you'll get in trouble too."

"I have an invisibility cloak," Harry reminded them. "It'll get us out if we need to leave."

The brothers looked at each other. Alfred shrugged and Matthew sighed. "Okay, get your cloak and let's go."

* * *

It was nearly eleven o'clock by the time the trio got to the Quidditch field. Harry was surprised to see that Malfoy had actually shown up. But that mischievous grin on the Slytherin boy's face didn't comfort Harry _at all_.

"I see the 'Hero' brought some of his friends!" Malfoy mocked. "All the better to carry you to the infirmary when this is over!"

Alfred casually glanced over Malfoy's shoulder. "Well, you ain't exactly alone, either," he said, indicating Draco's body guards, Crabbe and Goyle.

Malfoy shrugged. "Well, they _insisted_ to come and see me beat you." He pulled out his wand. "So, try and hold your own for _at least_ five minutes, if only to give them a show."

Alfred grinned and pulled out his own wand, clearly enjoying the banter. "Well I'd hate to disappoint your dear friends who took time out of their day just to come see me."

Malfoy smirked and gave a flourishing bow. He looked up at Alfred and said, "Come on, then!"

Alfred's grin dropped. He sniffed distastefully and made a stiff movement that could barely be called a bow.

Draco raised an eyebrow, but did not comment. He straightened and pointed his wand at Alfred. "Stupefy!" he cried, sending a green bolt of energy at the American.

Alfred dodged to the side, avoiding the hit. He ducked at Malfoy's second spell and jumped to avoid a third.

"Use your wand, Alfred!" Matthew called from the sidelines.

Alfred spared a glance at his brother, and looked down a his wand.

"Scared, Jones?" Malfoy taunted as he flung another spell. Malfoy's friends laughed and jeered.

Alfred said nothing as he dodged again.

"Why isn't he fighting back?" Harry asked, alarmed.

Matthew wrung his hands. "He's always been stubborn, but surely he could make an exception _right now_..."

Harry cupped his hands around his mouth. "Come _on_, Alfred!"

Alfred darted left to avoid another green bolt.

"Dance for me Yankee!" Malfoy said gleefully.

Harry looked closely at Alfred's expression in the dark. He _really_ didn't like that last remark, if the narrowed eyes and flared nostrils were anything to go by.

Malfoy paused in his assault and looked over his shoulder towards his heckling friends. "Not much of a _duel_ now is-" He was cut off by a tiny cluster of red, white, and blue firework blowing up in his face. He jumped back and glared in Alfred's direction.

Alfred stood with a smoking wand still pointed at Malfoy. "I dance for _no one_!" he practically roared. He stalked towards his foe, and wordlessly flicked his wand again. Malfoy's wand flew out of his hand and into the grass. The Slytherin boy walked backwards to avoid the American's wrath, but wasn't fast enough. Alfred grabbed him by the shirt collar and threw him to the ground.

Matthew spurred into action. "He's going to _kill_ Malfoy if we don't stop this!" He jogged towards the duelers.

Harry didn't doubt Matthew's words as he watched Alfred step on Malfoy's windpipe. Sure, Draco was a prick. But Harry didn't necessarily wish his _death_ over it. Harry rushed to assist Matthew in breaking the two apart.

_"Let go!"_ Alfred demanded as his brother struggled to pull him off the Malfoy. Harry knelt down and dragged the pale boy out of harm's way.

The Slytherin student gasped for air and propped himself up on one elbow. He looked at the American in shock. "Bloody hell, his eyes are red!"

"What?" Harry asked. He followed Malfoy's line of sight and looked at the struggling Alfred. "No, his eyes are blue, like always," he responded confusedly.

Draco shook his head. "No, no, no! When he was on top of me! They were red, I swear it!"

Harry's response was interrupted by a familiar voice.

"Cease this madness _immediately_!"

Alfred and Matthew stopped wrestling with each other while Malfoy picked himself up off the ground hurriedly and brushed himself off. Crabbe and Goyle did their best to look invisible. All students present turned to see Professor Mcgonagall march across the field towards them, followed by none other than Professor Snape and the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore.

"Care to explain?" Dumbledore asked mildly.

Draco pointed an accusing finger at Alfred. "He tried just tried to kill me!"

Mcgonagall raised an eyebrow. "Surely if that were true, your friends here would have assisted you immediately rather than stand aside and wait for your enemies to do it for them?" she asked, indicating Crabbe and Goyle.

Snape shot a hard glare at Alfred. "We could at least investigate this a bit further before jumping to conclusions?"

Dumbledore, who had been watching the proceedings from the side, stepped forward. "Hardly necessary," he old wizard said as he stroked his beard. "I expected something like this to happen when we accepted exchange students." He gestured to Alfred, who had his hands in his pockets and a neutral expression. "My knowledge on America is rather minimal, having not been there myself. But am I correct in saying that the wizards over there have a bit of a 'do it yourself' attitude?"

The American boy looked up at the teacher with a raised eyebrow, but nodded slowly.

"And am I correct," Dumbledore continued, "in saying that a magical duel between equals-even if they were underage-would be a matter that didn't necessarily involve the authorities?"

Alfred nodded again. And Dumbledore spread out his hands. "Then what we have here is a difference in culture. An insult was given, and the duel was called-" he silenced Malfoy with a gesture. "and it _doesn't matter who started it_." The Slytherin boy grumbled and subsided. "It is perfectly understandable, given Alfred's probable upbringing, that where we see an illegal underaged duel, he sees a private matter to be settled among his peers."

Snape didn't look convinced, but Mcgonagall seemed to at least be considering the possibility. "Even so," the stern professor said, "we cannot allow this to go completely unpunished, headmaster."

"What is legal across the Atlantic is not legal here, and it happened _here,_" Snape added. "They should be reprimanded accordingly. Potter here," Snape pointed a stiff finger at him, "could have explained things to Jones beforehand, but he didn't. So there is plenty of willful rule-breaking to go around."

Dumbledore began to stroke his beard again as he thought. "Well...you both have good points. As headmaster, I sentence these two Slytherins," he inclined his head towards Crabbe and Goyle, "to a weeks-worth of detention with Professor Mcgonagall. As for Malfoy, by being a participating duelist, has earned himself detention with Mr. Filch. He will be assisting the dear caretaker with his rounds every Thursday evening for two months." He turned and regarded the twins and Harry. "And you three will be assisting Hagrid with his nightly errands for the next two weeks."

Harry didn't really see that as a punishment, but he didn't intend to mention it. He just looked at his shoes and struggled to keep his excitement contained as he nodded mutely to the three professors. Alfred and Matthew did the same, but the three Slytherin boys just stood rooted to their spots. Harry smiled inwardly at Malfoy's dismayed look. Things were looking up even more now.

* * *

**Alrighty, the duel's been done and I even managed to squeeze in a sneaky reference to my other story. Ain't I a stinker? ;)**

**Thank you soooo much for all the support guys and gals, every notice I get is another happy point added to my daily life. Tell me how I'm doing in a review, if you don't mind of course...**

**Later dudes! ^J^**


	21. Chapter 21

Malfoy scowled at the fireplace as he pondered upon recent events. Things didn't go according plan. He_ hated _when something didn't go according to plan. He was supposed to humiliate the yankee by exploiting his apparent aversion to magic, and then get him in trouble when the teachers finally showed up because he had told Professor Snape that the twins had challenged _him _instead of the other way around.

But things didn't turn out that way. Detention. He got detention because of the Yankee _again_. It was little solace that Crabbe and Goyle did as well, seeing as how they would be getting it elsewhere.

This would not do. But...there's nothing he can do about it, is there? Dumbledore, the supposedly neutral headmaster, actually _covered_ for them by blabbering on about some 'difference in culture' nonsense. Mcgonagall just went with it, and the only ally Malfoy had in that situation, Snape, couldn't do anything about it either.

The Slytherin boy's brow darkened as he sank down in his seat. He had also just lost the upper hand he thought that he had over Jones. Not only had Jones used magic, but as loath as Malfoy was to admit, he was _good_ at it. Despite the failed attempts at magic in most of his classes, that bloody American had bested him, a pureblood, in a duel.

And as the wands were away, and Alfred grabbed his shirt collar...those _eyes_. Malfoy was absolutely, beyond a doubt sure that his life was going to end right there if the Canadian and Potter hadn't interfered. He also recalled the argument the twins had as they wrestled.

_"Let go!" Alfred demanded._

_Matthew adjusted his hold on his brother. "No! Calm down or you'll kill someone!"_

_"Hell _yeah_, I'll kill someone!" Alfred snarled back._

He had glanced up at Potter to see if he had heard, but the 'boy who lived' was completely oblivious to what was right in front of him as usual. And then as the students were escorted by the teachers to their common rooms, Malfoy recalled another tidbit.

_"Take your medicine at the common room. No arguments," Matthew whispered to his brother. The American had just stared at the floor and grunted in affirmative as they walked. Once again, Potter hadn't noticed._

He could expose them like he'd threatened to do, Malfoy supposed. But he dashed the thought away. He didn't hear much in that conversation besides Matthew admitting that they _weren't_ normal teenage wizardlings. That's not much to go on. He couldn't expose someone if he didn't know exactly what he was exposing.

Malfoy sighed and glanced up at the clock ticking away the hours. Three o'clock in the morning...he should really be getting to bed. The Slytherin boy rose from his seat and made his way down the hall towards the boys dormitories. As he crawled under his emerald and silver covers he decided upon a _new_ resolution.

He would get his revenge on Alfred and Matthew, that's for sure. But he'd wait. He'd wait until his own power had consolidated further. When he'd gone up in the ranks of Slytherin House, and when his father was willing to search Ministry files for information on the twins' mentor Arthur Kirkland rather than dismissing it as unnecessary, he'd make his move again. Until then, he would wait.

But he was patient.

* * *

"Alfred and Matthew, see me after class." That was the first thing Professor Kirkland said when he strode into the classroom. He looked like he'd missed some sleep last night.

Alfred rested his chin on his hand. "Duuuuude, not cool." He said this quietly so as not to let Professor Kirkland hear.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "So, I'm guessing the duel didn't go well?"

"Please don't tell me that git Malfoy beat you," Ron pleaded.

"No...I beat him alright..." Alfred said sullenly.

"Professors caught us," Matthew explained.

Harry nodded. "Dumbledore actually covered for us, though. So it wasn't all that bad."

"They _interrupted_ me..." Alfred could be heard to mutter to himself darkly.

"Al," Matthew said warningly. "We talked about this."

The American nodded and shut his eyes. He seemed to make a mental effort, then his eyes opened again and his attitude had made a clear 180 degree turn for the better. "Anywho, is anyone taking notes for this class?"

Hermione, who was a bit confused by the sudden mood change, nodded. "I am, of course."

"Can I borrow them later?" Alfred asked.

Hermione settled into the comfortable role of a conversation they'd had many times before. "You really should be paying attention, you know."

Ron rubbed the back of his head. "Um, can I borrow those too?" he asked sheepishly.

"What am I going to _do_ with you two?" the Gryffindor girl asked exasperatedly.

As Hermione scolded, Harry tapped Ron on the shoulder. "You can borrow mine," he said conspiratorially. Ron silently nodded in thanks.

"Are you even_ listening_ to me?" Hermione demanded.

"Nope!" Alfred said cheerfully.

* * *

After class, the Golden trio bid their friends good luck with Professor Kirkland and cleared the room. Harry looked back to see the Professor giving the twins a frightful glare as the door banged shut.

"Will they be alright?" Ron asked worriedly.

Hermione snorted. "Honestly Ron, you act like the teacher calling a student after class is equivalent to a death sentence!"

"Yeah, but that's more like being called in by a _parent_ for them," Ron shuddered.

Hermione shook her head and turned to Harry. "What was your punishment anyways?"

Harry shrugged. "like I said, it's not that bad. Alfred, Matthew and I are just going to be with Hagrid every night for two weeks."

"Oh, come on!" Ron complained. "I _never_ get a good detention like that!"

* * *

Alfred and Matthew joined Arthur at the front of the classroom. The Englishman was giving them a full-blown teacher glare, which was enough to make at least Matthew nervous. Alfred seemed unaffected.

"Do you _know_ the definition of laying low?" Arthur demanded.

Matthew looked up. "We didn't challenge Malfoy, he did towards us. He threatened to expose us if we didn't accept."

"What?" Arthur asked. "He _knows _and you didn't bother to inform me?"

"I don't think he knows," Matthew appeased. "I thought about what he said exactly. He was probably bluffing most of it, because we never actually let slip that we were Nations. He just heard me admit that we weren't normal."

Arthur sighed in relief. "Oh, thank _God_. I thought I'd have to Obliviate a little boy." He reared on a suspiciously silent Alfred. "Anything you'd like to share, Alfred? Like how I'm hearing rumors of certain American trying to murder a student?" Alfred looked up at Arthur and said nothing. Arthur looked the blue eyed boy up and down. He noticed the American's hands for the first time. "What's wrong with your hands?"

Alfred shoved his hands in his pockets. "Nothing."

"Alfred..." Arthur said. His voice took on a tinge of concern and he stepped forward. "Let me see."

Alfred took a step back. "I-I'd rather not. It's nothing to be concerned about..."

Matthew sighed. "Come on, Alfred. He's not going to do anything." He held out a hand to his brother. "We're just worried about you."

Alfred regarded the two Nations for a moment. He glanced at the exit, and then looked back. He seemed to come to a decision as he sighed and withdrew his hands from his pockets. He held them out, palms up.

Matthew's eyebrows furrowed and Arthur sucked in a breath. Alfred's hands were covered in angry red blisters.

"Al..." Matthew said sorrowfully.

"No more avoiding it," Arthur said in a tone that allowed for no argument. "What's going on with you?"

Alfred took a deep breath before finally saying what he's kept inside for over two hundred years. _"This is what happens when I use magic."_ He shut his eyes tightly and waited.

Matthew stepped towards his brother carefully. "Is this because of Salem?"

Alfred stiffened slightly. "How do you know about that?" he asked.

Arthur's eyes widened as he figured it out. "Alfred, Where were you in 1692?"

Alfred looked down at the floor. His response was quiet enough where they had to strain to hear it. "...Massachusetts."

"What happened m'boy?" Arthur asked, in full parenting mode now.

Alfred looked up and studied the faces of his brother and his friend. He decided that if he could trust anyone with this, it was them. "I was really little...you had just left so I figured I would visit some of the other little towns while you were gone. I got down to-to Massachusetts and found Salem...it seemed like a nice place, and the other children were fun to play with. One day, a little girl and I were playing by a small cliff. She tripped and fell over the edge. I reacted and used one of the spells you taught me." He paused and chuckled mirthlessly. "She found herself floating six inches off the ground and I found myself being carried off by a mob of angry people towards a burning stake. They tied me to it, called me names, spat on me, threw rocks at me...that was the first time I died. I woke up to find myself naked somewhere in the woods, probably where they threw my ashes." He paused and looked up at his audience. "I stopped believing it because I was afraid of it. I was afraid of what it had caused, and I was afraid of being hated for it. So I did my best to forget about it and move on."

Matthew gave his brother a saddened look. "And the blisters?"

"Left overs of my experience," Alfred responded. "It's part of the reason I hate using it."

Arthur watched Alfred for a full minute. Every Nation remembers their first death. And burning is notoriously the worst way to go. "I know you may hate this," he finally said. "But the only way for it to go away is for you to continue using magic."

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"The more you use magic," Arthur explained, "the less blisters you'll get. Because by using magic you are coping with your experience."

Alfred looked down at his hands. "...Are you sure?"

Arthur nodded. "Am I correct in saying they are significantly less severe than they were when you first started the school year?"

"Well yeah, but..." Alfred hesitated. "Can it really be that easy?"

Arthur nodded confidently. "Yes. But of course you have to get used to the _idea_ of magic in your life as well. Only then will your body accept it."

Matthew put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "We support you. You'll get through this, I promise."

Alfred finally offered a small smile. "Thanks guys."

* * *

"Yo, my peeps!" Alfred called cheerfully as he and his brother joined them for lunch.

Ron looked past Hermione. "Well you're looking positively chipper."

The bushy haired Gryffindor girl gave Alfred a once over and nodded. "Indeed...what did you and the Professor speak about?"

"Some stuff," Alfred shrugged as he and his brother sat down.

"That's not an answer," Hermione pressed.

"Oh, lay off Hermione," Harry finally said. "It's not really our business anyways."

"You know what _is_ our business?" Ron leaned forward and his eyes twinkled. Ravenclaw will be playing Hufflepuff at the end of November. We all know that Ravenclaw is going to _flatten_ Hufflepuff. Gryffindor's not out of the running yet, you know."

Harry smiled, he had forgotten about that. This means Wood will stop being so down in the dumps. And with the Dementors staying out of the way, he wouldn't have an issue.

A lull in the conversation caused Matthew to speak, "Oh, Alfred. Are you doing that thing this year?"

Alfred cocked his head confusedly. "What thing?-oh!" He snapped his fingers and smiled as it dawned on him. "Totally!"

"Thing?" Hermione asked suspiciously.

"An American tradition," Alfred responded cryptically. "You'll find out soon enough."

Harry studied the American's features. That was Alfred's famous 'I'm planning something and you better love it' face. This particular expression could bode either well or ill for anyone involved in his scheme. Harry could never be sure. He looked towards Matthew in hopes of gleaning some kind of clue, but the Canadian's calm visage was unreadable.

Oh, well. He'd just have to wait and find out.

* * *

**Another chapter has been completed! Hooray!**

**Alright, I don't know how you guys may take this but...the red eyes thing is not 2P. It's a reference to another story I'm working on that I just decided to stick in there for the fun of it. I hope you don't mind... :/**

**Anywho, thanks so much for the reviews and everything! They are the butter to my bread and my bread would be terribly plain without it.**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	22. Chapter 22

About a week passed normally for Harry. Although if anything of note had happened within that time frame, he probably hadn't noticed. He's been to busy with constant Quidditch practice thanks to his team's second chance at glory. Wood had regained his customary fervor and was working them harder than ever. But every Thursday evening, Harry would return to the Gryffindor Common Room with dragging feet and a grin. All the work would be worth it in the end.

When he wasn't doing Quidditch, he was doing homework. Everyone agreed that Snape was an absolutely miserable teacher to have, he only seemed to get more sour as the year progressed. The essays he gave increased in number and length, and he became even harder on his students' potions in class. Harry actually counted himself as one of the luckier ones though...especially compared to Alfred and Matthew. It's as if Snape had decided one day to make their lives as miserable as possible without resorting to the Cruciatus Curse!

A particular incident in Potions Class comes to mind.

Alfred was paired up with Harry for a class assignment. Alfred saw this as luck, but Harry felt that this was so Snape could torment his least favorite students with more convenience. So, the pair did their best to do the potion as accurately as possible, considering that Snape would probably jump on the opportunity to fail them at the slightest provocation. Alfred made the mistake of asking Harry for the mermaid scales at a volume slightly louder than an especially shy librarian.

"Jones," Snape scolded from his desk. "Try and speak at a level appropriate for the classroom."

Alfred rolled his eyes and glanced at Harry as if to say, 'Seriously, dude?'

Harry shrugged and handed him the ingredient. Alfred silently nodded in thanks and added a few to the simmering orange mixture in their cauldron.

Some Slytherin kid that Harry hardly knew sat nearby. He elbowed his partner, and smirked. The Gryffindor boy caught a muttered, "Watch this."

Before Harry could warn anyone, the Slytherin boy used his knife to fling a dampened clump of goblin earwax towards the student sitting directly in front of him, which happened to be Matthew.

The Canadian looked up from his book as the disgusting thing met the back of his head with a wet_ slap! _He gingerly felt the area he was hit, his fingers easily finding the thing tangled in his blond hair. He sighed and looked around, presumably to find the offender.

"Eyes on your own work, Williams," Snape droned, not bothering to look up from his papers.

Matthew grimaced as he looked back at his cauldron, his fingers still trying to pick the stuff out. He surveyed his table and whispered something to his partner, who shook her head apologetically. Matthew slid off of his stool and began to make his way towards the sinks, but Snape stopped him again.

"You can't possibly be done already, Mr. Williams," Snape said with a raised eyebrow.

Matthew shook his head. "No sir, I-"

"Back to your seat, Williams," Snape interrupted. Harry thought he could see Snape's black eyes glittering almost gleefully.

"But-" Matthew started.

"Five points from Gryffindor," Snape said. "Now _back_ to your _seat_."

The boy's eyebrows went down into a slight furrow and his mouth pressed into a thin line. He turned and rejoined his partner silently. He was angry, that much Harry could tell. But he wasn't going to let it get the better of him.

Alfred was another story though. He looked into his cauldron with a frown, his blue eyes showing clear hate for the man at the front of the room. Harry squeezed his arm reassuringly. The class period was only a few minutes from ending anyway. The American's brow cleared, and Harry gave a mental sigh of relief. He'd just averted a disaster.

Aside from Potions, Harry found his other classes bearable. Professor Kirkland never ceased to fascinate him with his anecdotes. This resulted in the best grade he'd ever gotten from History of Magic. Transfigurations carried on as normal, although McGonagall had taken to watching him and his friends with suspicion. Defense Against the Dark Arts was going especially well. Hermione was thrilled to see Alfred taking to the subject with enthusiasm, especially after his duel with Malfoy.

Malfoy...Harry hadn't seen hide nor hair of the disagreeable boy outside of class as of late. He wasn't complaining though. Being free from that git's taunting was an unexpected gift.

* * *

One Thursday evening, Harry, Hermione, and Ron looked up to see a preoccupied Alfred walk through the portrait hole and into the common room. "Any of ya'll know where Matt is?" he asked.

Ron gestured with his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the stairs to the Boys' Dormitories. "Studying with Longbottom, I think."

Hermione glanced up from her book for a moment to give the redhead a critical eye. "You should be doing the same."

Ron held up a hand as his face screwed up in concentration. He stared hard down at the chessboard in front of him, as if willing a solution to magically appear to him. "...Knight to E3," he finally said, moving the small white game piece across the board. He leaned back and saw Harry spacing out. "Harry," he reached over and poked his friend. "It's your turn,"

Harry, who had been staring up at the direction Alfred had gone, snapped out of his thoughts and looked down at the board. "Oh, uh...Bishop to B6."

Ron looked down at the board and then back up at Harry. "Something on your mind, mate?" he asked. "Because that was a stupid move, even for you." His piece moved forward a space and it destroyed Harry's King. "Checkmate."

Harry payed little attention to this. "Did anyone else notice that Al had a ladle in his hand?"

Hermione gave Harry a skeptical look. "Are you sure about that?"

Harry's response was cut off by the sound of the Boys' Dormitory door slamming shut and the patter of rapid footsteps on stone. Alfred returned, with his rather reluctant looking pajama-clad brother in tow.

Matthew tried in vain to free himself from his brother's grip as he was dragged down the stairs. "Al, don't you think that-"

Alfred interrupted with a decisive gesture of his silver ladle. "Nope, come help."

"Alfred..."

"No argument, just help," the American responded shortly. He gestured with his silver ladle towards the exit. "No worries, I got permission!" He flashed a bright grin towards his dorm mates and shot out of room again.

Hermione snapped her book shut. "Well, it seems he did indeed have a ladle. But what could he possibly be doing with it?"

Harry thought for a moment, but then an idea struck him. "Hey, remember when he mentioned some kind of 'American tradition' a while back?"

Ron cocked his head as he tried to recall that conversation. "...Yes, I believe so. But what's that got to do with anything?"

"I'm not sure," Harry admitted. "What do Americans usually do around November?"

After a moment of silence, Hermione perked up and snapped her fingers, "Oh, yes! I know what's going on! Although, I'm not sure why he'd feel the need to do anything, considering how our usual fare is more than acceptable..."

"So, where'd he go? What's he doing?" Ron asked eagerly.

The Gryffindor girl rose from her seat and gestured to her friends. "Well, how about I show you? It's no problem since he has permission." She led them out of the dormitory, and to a familiar secret entrance.

Ron looked at it with confusion. "The kitchens?" He glanced towards his friend for help, but Harry could only shrug. He had no idea as to what was going on. Hermione smiled and took the liberty of opening the entrance, to be met with an interesting sight.

The house elves flitted about, cooking and cleaning as was their job. But Harry saw Matthew among their ranks, stirring a small pot that simmered on a stove. Alfred stood by a large oven, giving occasional orders to elves and staring into the glowing oven intently.

"Alfred!" Hermione said as she lead Harry and Ron over. "Do you need any help here?"

The blond boy looked at his friends. He was positively glowing with joy. "Oh, good! You're here-" the oven made a dinging sound and Alfred peeked into it. "Mattie, I need that glaze!" Alfred called, his voice carrying easily over the din.

Matthew nodded and gave his pot a final stir. He lifted it off the stove and rapidly carried it across the room towards Alfred. The American looked at it's contents and nodded happily. He wrenched the giant metal doors to the oven completely open, quite a feat for a fourteen year old to do alone, and began to distribute it's contents over the tops of several large turkeys that were revealed to be inside. He slammed the heavy doors shut and placed his hands on his hips confidently.

Matthew turned and headed towards a group of house elves that were chopping up pumpkins into halves and placing them on trays. He picked up a full tray in each hand and carried them towards an equally large oven about two down from Alfred's.

"What _is_ all this?" Harry asked as he looked around the kitchens in awe.

"Thanksgiving!" Alfred responded happily. His blue eyes turned intent as he gathered the three into a small group huddle. "Now I need your help. Ron, can you get the Gryffindor House down to the Great Hall?"

Ron's eyes widened. "The _whole_...yeah. I think so."

Alfred nodded. "Okay, get Fred and George's help if you must. Just _get them down here_!"

Ron stumbled out of the group and started towards the exit in a bit of a daze. Alfred called after him. "Invite McGonagall too!"

"I wonder how she'll take the news," Harry chuckled. This entire situation was just unbelievable!

"She'll forgive me when she tastes the pie," Alfred grinned. "It's my own recipe, and I make the _best_ pie." He paused to glance inside the oven again. "Besides, Dumbledore said it was fine!"

"Really?" Hermione asked skeptically. "The headmaster allowed you to take over the kitchens and put together an unscheduled feast for Gryffindor House?"

"Yeah!" Alfred answered. "Dude's been totally chill with me lately. The only condition was that I invite McGonagall too. And I was gonna do that anyways so it's no issue."

Hermione raised an eyebrow slightly, but her smile remained. "Alright then...what did you need us to do?"

Alfred clasped his hands together. "Could you go grab Igg-I mean, Professor Kirkland? He's like family-well he _is_ family, since he raised me..."

"We'll go get him," Harry found himself saying. "It's no problem." Hermione nodded in agreement.

"Great!" Alfred exclaimed. "Get him to the Great Hall with the others and I'll join you there in a bit."

* * *

"Professor?" Harry called through the door. He and Hermione listened intently. The sound of paper rustling could be heard, and a faint sigh. The door unlocked a few moments later.

Kirkland peeked out from behind the door, his blond hair even more mussed than usual. He didn't look very well rested either, with bags under his eyes and his clothing disheveled. "Yes, children. What is it?" the Englishman inquired softly.

"Your presence is requested down in the Great Hall professor," Hermione said primly, her hands clasped neatly behind her back.

"The Great Hall?" Kirkland asked as he opened the door a bit wider. "Did something happen?"

"Nothing bad," Harry assured. "Alfred just asked us to bring you there for a feast."

Kirkland arched one bushy eyebrow. "A feast, you say? Why would there be one now, of all times? Dinner ended hours ago."

"It's Thanksgiving in America, sir," Hermione supplied. "Dumbledore has given Gryffindor House permission to celebrate."

"Oh..." Kirkland put a hand to his chin. "That's _very_ interesting..." he mumbled to himself. The green eyed teacher regarded the students in front of him again. "Alright, since Dumbledore said yes...I suppose there could be no harm in it."

Harry smiled as the professor turned to retrieve something from his room.

* * *

Arthur thought hard as the two Gryffindors looked up at him hopefully, waiting for an answer. Arthur hasn't joined Alfred for Thanksgiving very often, although he was always invited. But this...this was good. Alfred was _surrounded_ by magic, and his celebratory mood is a sign that Alfred was coming to terms with it.

Why did Dumbledore allow it, though? That man's always been a bit of a kooky one, but there's a _method_ to his madness. There's _always_ a reason, for everything he does. So what was his purpose now?

Arthur returned his attention to the students in front of him. He could confront Dumbledore later. For now though...he hadn't eaten much today. And though he'd never admit it, Alfred made good pie.

* * *

Harry sat with everyone around the table, which had been arranged into a large square rather than a rectangle. The food was good. _Really_ good. Who knew Alfred could cook? Harry especially enjoyed talking to his all of friends in Gryffindor. No jeering Slytherins at the next table, no leering teachers...it was great. And the new table arrangement gave everything a jovial and cozy feeling, despite the giant room. Even McGonagall and Kirkland even enjoyed themselves. Dumbledore's blessing on the gathering probably helped that. By the end of it, Harry and the other contented students barely managed to waddle back to the Common Room. He jumped into his bed, and quickly fell asleep.

* * *

**Alright, this chapter's done. And I know it's a bit early for Thanksgiving. and I _know_ Canada has a Thanksgiving too. But do you really expect Matthew to do what Alfred did and take it to Hogwarts? **

**Thanks for the reviews, favs, and follows everyone! I'm really not sure about this chapter though...Could you tell me what you think of it in a review?**

**later dudes. ^J^**


	23. Chapter 23

The drizzly days of the end of November and early December quickly turned to snow. There was a holiday buzz in the air as Christmas drew near. Professor Kirkland had actually surprised the class by decorating his classroom with shimmering lights that turned out to be actual fairies upon closer inspection. Students happily discussed their plans for the holidays.

"I'm staying here," Ron said one day. "I can't have me Mum and Percy smothering me for a whole two weeks!" He shuddered at the thought and turned towards his friends. "How about you all?"

Hermione shifted the strap of her book bag. "I'll probably remain as well," she answered. "It's easier on my parents that way."

Matthew looked up from his book briefly. "I'll be staying too. Alfred insisted on it."

"Well, duh!" Alfred exclaimed, clapping a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Ain't no one to go home to anyways, with Arthur still here."

Harry smiled to himself. He wasn't fooled; they were staying to keep him company, and he was very grateful.

* * *

To everyone's delight, save for Harry's, another Hogsmeade trip was scheduled for the very last weekend of the term. Harry knew he would most likely be the only third year to stay behind, since Alfred wanted Matthew to come along this time. So, Harry borrowed a copy of _Which Broomstick_ from Wood and perused the different brooms available. The school brooms were absolutely terrible, he needed a broom of his own soon.

On Saturday morning, the day of the trip, Harry bid goodbye to his friends. Hermione, Alfred, and Ron were wrapped in cloaks and scarves to ward off the biting winter chill, although Matthew seemed unaffected by the temperature.

"It's cold at my place," he explained to a baffled Harry.

"Yeah, mine too. Doesn't mean I _enjoy_ it," Alfred complained between chattering teeth.

With that, they parted ways. Harry turned up the marble staircase alone, with Gryffindor Tower in mind. Snow began to fall outside the windows, and the castle was almost completely still and quiet without it's resident student body.

He entered the Common Room and trudged up to the dormitory. He sat down on his bed, deep in thought. Why couldn't he go to Hogsmeade with his friends? It wasn't fair it...

But what's stopping him?

He dug into his trunk and pulled out his invisibility cloak. He studied the shimmering fabric.

Yes, he would have to be careful. Dementors can see right through these but...he needed to get out of this castle. Despite it's great size, he was tired of being cooped up in it while everyone else went out to have fun.

He flung the cloak over himself and hurriedly left the dormitory. He paid little mind to the confused Fat Lady as he made his way towards the snowy courtyard. Hogsmeade isn't that far. He can easily make it in time for-

No sooner had he made a few steps through the snowy courtyard when none other than Fred and George Weasley appeared seemingly from nowhere. They each tucked an arm under Harry's and dragged him back towards the school.

"Hey-come on, guys!" Harry pleaded.

"Clever, Harry," Fred praised the struggling Gryffindor.

"But not clever enough," George finished.

"I'm _trying_ to get to Hogsmeade!" Harry complained.

"We know," the twins said together.

"But don't worry," George said lightly.

"Well show you a quicker way," Fred stated in a similar tone. Harry wondered why Alfred and Matthew never did that. It would make sense, since they were twins as well.

They dragged him to a side corridor near the courtyard and tore the cloak off of him. Fred shoved a worn piece of parchment into his hands.

"What's this rubbish?" Harry demanded irritatedly.

"Shhh!" George scolded, putting a finger to his lips.

"'What's this rubbish?' he says," Fred laughed. He gestured towards the thing. "That there is the secret to our success!"

"It's a right treasure it is," George said. "But we've decided that your needs are greater than ours. Fred, if you will?"

The ginger haired twin grinned and pulled out his wand. He placed it lightly on the center of the paper. "I do solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he recited.

The seemingly blank parchment came alive with inked illustrations and a title. Harry read it aloud. "Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs are proud to present...the Marauders Map?"

"We owe them so much," Fred said, putting a hand over his heart. "Go on and open it."

Harry did as he was asked, revealing what looked like a map of Hogwarts. He noticed tiny footprints around the castle's diagram. "No, is that really..."

"Dumbledore," George said.

"In his office," Fred smiled.

"Pacing," George finished. "He does that a lot."

"So...this map shows...everyone?"

"Everyone," Fred nodded.

"Where they are," George added.

"And what they're doing,"

"Every minute,"

"Of every day!" They chorused together.

"Where'd you get it?" Harry asked as he watched the map in awe.

"Filch's office, first year," George said as if were obvious.

"Anyways, you need to get to Hogsmeade," Fred said with an almost businesslike tone.

"There are seven secret passageways to get there." George lectured. "We recommend..." he pointed to a specific spot on the map, "This one."

"Leads right through the Honeydukes' cellar!" Fred said happily. "But remember,"

"When you're done, give it a tap and say, 'Mischief managed',"

"Otherwise anyone can read it," they said together again. Harry idly wondered how they could even _do_ that.

* * *

It turns out that the map was correct. Behind the statue of the hunchbacked one-eyed witch, was a secret passage that winded straight to the Honeydukes' cellar. Harry climbed from under a tile in the floor and looked around. The place was empty, for now. Harry needed to get moving.

He threw his invisibility cloak over himself a second time and crept up the wooden stairs. he could definitely hear voices now, and the tinkling of a bell to accompany the sound of a constantly opening and shutting door. The shop was having good business today, then.

Harry jumped to the side and narrowly avoided colliding with a man coming down the stairs. He waited a moment to make sure he hadn't been heard, and dodged up the stairs and through the door at the top as silently as he could. His eyes adjusted to the light and he found himself behind the shopkeeper's counter. He ducked, crept sideways, and straightened himself again. He swept off the cloak and surveyed the scene.

He blended in perfectly since the place was so jammed with Hogwarts students. He maneuvered around them, studying the shop's wares with interest. The shelves were stocked with some of the most succulent looking sweets Harry had ever seen. Chocolates, toffee and nougat of every kind were stacked in neat rows. Another shelf was stuffed with a rainbow of colored taffies and such. There was a barrel near the front of the shop full of Bott's Every Flavor Beans, and countless packages of 'Special Effects' confections like Drooble's Best Blowing Gum and toad shaped peppermint creams that would hop around in one's stomach after consumption.

Harry pushed through the crowd of students and looked towards a sign in the farthest corner of the shop that read 'Unusual Tastes'. Ron, Hermione, Alfred and Matthew stood under it, examining the questionable options.

"Why would anyone want a blood flavored lollipop?" Matthew questioned as he examined the tray of them set before him.

"They're for vampires," Hermione explained as she sorted through the candies. "Now what do you think Harry would like?"

Ron picked up a small jar. "What about these?"

Alfred peered at the label. "Ugh, no. Cockroach Clusters sound like they shouldn't even _exist_."

Harry smiled as he crept up behind them. "I must agree with Alfred," he said.

Ron nearly dropped the jar and Matthew jumped back.

_"Harry!"_ squealed Hermione. "What-how-...how did you-"

"Wow!" Ron said with an impressed smile. "You learned to Apparate!"

"No I haven't," Harry responded. He lowered his voice and told his friends about the Marauder's Map.

"Nifty!" Alfred exclaimed when Harry had finished. "Imagine all the cool stuff you could do with it!"

"I don't see why Fred and George never gave it to me!" said Ron in an outrage. "I'm their _brother_!"

Matthew patted him on the shoulder comfortingly with a bemused expression.

"Harry isn't going to keep it though," Hermione said as if it were ludicrous. "He's going to hand it right over to McGonagall, aren't you Harry?"

"No, I'm not!" Harry responded.

"Are you mad?" Ron demanded as he goggled at Hermione. "Hand in something that good?"

"Doing that would be a decided tactical fuck-up," Alfred commented studiously.

His brother slapped him in the arm. "Al_fred_. Watch your language."

Harry shook his head at the twins' antics and turned back to Hermione. "If I hand it in, I'll have to say where I got it! Filch would know Fred and George nicked it!"

"But what about Sirius Black?" Hermione hissed. "He could be using one of the passages on that map to get into the castle! The teachers _need_ to know!"

"He can't be getting in through a passage," Harry assured quickly. "Out of the seven, Filch knows of four, one's collapsed, and one goes through the Whomping Willow. The one I came through-well-it's practically impossible to see the entrance so unless he knew it was there..." he hesitated.

"What if he _did_ know it was there?" Matthew asked quietly, voicing the very thing crossing Harry's mind. The five were quiet for a moment. How to answer that? Ron broke the silence by loudly clearing his throat. He pointed towards an official looking notice on the inside of the sweetshop's door. Alfred squinted slightly at the tiny writing and read aloud.

"By the order of the Ministry of Magic, customers are reminded that until further notice, Dementors will be patrolling the streets of Hogsmeade every night after sundown. This measure has been put in place for the safety of Hogsmeade residents and will be lifted upon the recapture of Sirius Black. It is therefore advisable that you complete your shopping well before nightfall...Merry Christmas." The American frowned and fell silent, and his brother had a similar expression.

Harry remembered that both had an especially bad reaction to the Dementors' presence. What was it Professor Lupin had said? _"The Dementors affect you worse than the others because there are horrors in your past that others don't have." _Harry wondered_ w_hat those two had in their past that was so bad...

Ron broke Harry out of his reverie. "I'd like to see Black try and break into Honeydukes with Dementors swarming all over the village. Anyway, Hermione, the Honeydukes owners would hear a break-in, wouldn't they? They live right over the shop!"

"Yes, but-but..." Hermione struggled for a moment. "Look, Harry still shouldn't be here. He hasn't got a signed form! He'll be in so much trouble if someone finds out! And it's not nightfall yet...what if Sirius Black turns up today? Now?"

Alfred mimed shading his eyes as he peered suspiciously into the throng of students in the shop. "Hmmm..." He dropped his hands and shrugged. "Nope, don't see 'im."

Hermione gave Alfred a light glare. "That's not the _point_-"

"A certain amount of rule breaking is healthy," Matthew interrupted quietly. "It's Christmas, Harry deserves a break."

His brother clapped him on the shoulder. "I've finally corrupted you!" he said cheerfully. The Canadian rolled his eyes and brushed his sibling's hand away.

Hermione bit her lip, looking extremely worried.

"Are you going to report me?" Harry asked with a grin. He already knew the answer.

"Oh, of course not! But honestly, Harry-" she was interrupted again, but this time by Ron.

"Seen the Fizzing Whizbees, Harry?" Ron asked, grabbing his arm and leading him over to another barrel. "And the Jelly Slugs? Or the Acid Pops?" Harry smiled as Ron babbled happily. It was evident that his red headed friend has been wanting to take him here for a long time.

* * *

After they paid for their sweets, they left Honeydukes to brave the blizzard outside. The village itself looked like something out of a postcard with it's thatched cottages and cozy looking shops covered in a layer of crisp, white snow. Holly wreaths were placed on doors and enchanted candles hung in the trees for Christmas.

Harry barely suppressed a shiver. He hadn't come prepared for the weather like his friends. The Gryffindor boy envied Matthew's imperviousness to the cold. They headed up the street, heads bowed against the wind. He listened as Hermione, Ron, and Alfred shouted through their scarves about the town.

"That's the post office-"

"Zonko's is up there-"

"Let's go to the Shrieking Shack-"

"Tell you what," Ron finally said through chattering teeth. "Shall we go for a butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks?"

Harry agreed enthusiastically. The wind was fierce and his hands were freezing. So they crossed the road and in a matter of minutes were entering the tiny inn.

It was very crowded, warm, and smoky. The air hummed with the different conversations of a diverse group of clientele. From the group of wizards bundled up by the fireplace to the giant norse looking man sitting in the corner speaking with a stout little asian woman. A curvy woman with a pretty face was serving a bunch of rowdy warlocks up at the bar.

"That's Madam Rosmerta," said Ron. "I'll get the drinks, shall I?" he added, going slightly red. As he made his way towards the bar, Harry, Hermione, Alfred, and Matthew made their way to a vacant table near the back of the room placed between a window and an eclectically decorated Christmas tree that stood near the fireplace. Ron joined them but five minutes later, juggling five tankards of foaming hot butterbeer.

"Merry Christmas!" he said happily, raising his tankard. Everyone met his tankard with a _clink_ and a smile. Harry drank deeply. It was the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted and warmed his insides like they were lined with woolen blankets.

Alfred downed his drink in one go and slammed it back onto the table. "Whew! That's some good stuff right there!"

Ron stared at the American. "Did you really just drink that whole thing in less than five seconds?"

Alfred leaned back in his chair and placed his hands on his stomach. "Yep, it takes the feeling from warm to scalding and I looove it."

Matthew raised an eyebrow at his brother and smiled from behind his tankard. He sipped it and placed it politely on the space in front of him. Hermione followed his example. Harry was about to take another drink when he felt a sudden breeze ruffle his hair. The door of the Three Broomsticks had opened again. Harry looked over the rim of his tankard and choked.

Professors McGonagall and Kirkland had just entered the pub in a flurry of snowflakes, followed by Hagrid, who was in a deep conversation with a portly man in a lime-green bowler hat and pinstriped cloak-Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic.

Harry quickly found himself forced under the table by Alfred, splashing his butterbeer all over him. Dripping with the hot drink and crouching out of sight, Harry clutched his empty tankard and watched the teachers' and Fudge's feet move towards the bar, pause, then turn and walk right towards him.

Above him, Hermione whispered, _"Mobiliarbus!" _The Christmas tree beside their table rose a few inches off the ground, drifted sideways, and landed with a soft thump and slight clatter right in front of their table, concealing them from the adults' line of sight.

Harry peered through the dense lower branches. Four sets of chair legs moved back from the table right beside theirs. Harry could hear grunts and sighs of the teachers and minister as they sat down.

Next he saw another pair of feet, wearing sparkly turquoise high heels, and heard a woman's voice.

"A small gillywater-"

"Mine," said Professor McGonagall.

"Four pints of mulled mead-"

"Ta, Rosmerta," Hagrid said warmly.

"A firewhisky-"

"Here," Kirkland sounded out.

"So you'll be the red currant rum, Minister."

"Thank you, Rosmerta, m'dear," said Fudge's voice. "Lovely to see you again, I must say. Have one yourself, won't you? Come and join us..."

"Well, thank you very much, Minister."

Harry watched the glittering heels march away. While they were gone, Fudge could be heard again. "En-ah, Kirkland. Is it wise for you to drink right now? I know that you're rather..."

"I'm not so much of a lightweight that I can't handle _one_," Kirkland said irritatedly. Harry could practically see the light scowl on the blond man's face. "Besides, it's the _muggle_ drinks that really get me. They do something different with the alcohol I think."

"I did hear that you'd been among the muggles for a while now," Fudge responded. "It's good to see you're returned. For good this time, I hope?"

A chair creaked as Kirkland shifted in his seat "Well, I _do_ intend to spend more time here, certainly. But I still have unavoidable obligations in the muggle world, Minister. Given my...position."

The Minister coughed. "Yes, I can understand that. Do you intend to check with the Ministry officially this time? Or do we have to chase you around again?"

McGonagall interrupted the exchange as she leaned slightly forward in her seat. "You two know each other?"

"Hm? Oh, yes. I was quite surprised to hear that Kirkland had returned as a _teacher_ of all things. Especially given his temper."

"I do _not_ have a temper," Kirkland snapped. "Antonio was just being a greasy little-"

"There you are Rosmerta!" Hagrid said jovially as the glittering heels returned. He sounded almost grateful for the distraction.

Harry cursed himself for his foolishness as his legs ached from holding their awkward position. Why hadn't he realized that this was the last weekend of the term for the teachers as well? And how long were they going to sit there? He needed time to sneak back into Honeydukes to get back to the school tonight...Hermione's leg gave a nervous twitch next to him.

"So, what brings you to this neck of the woods, Minister?" came Madam Rosmerta's voice.

Harry saw the lower part of Fudge's thick body twist around as though he were checking for eavesdroppers. Then he said in a quiet voice, "What else m'dear, but Sirius Black? I daresay you heard what happened up at the school at Halloween?"

"I did hear a rumor," Rosmerta admitted.

"Did you tell the whole pub, Hagrid?" Professor McGonagall asked exasperatedly.

"Do you think Black's still around, Minister? In the area, I mean," whispered Madam Rosmerta.

"I'm sure of it," Fudge replied shortly.

"The Dementor's have searched the whole village twice, already," Rosmerta said with a slight edge to her voice. "It's bad for business, Minister."

"Rosmerta, m'dear, I don't like them any more than you do," Fudge said uncomfortably. "Necessary precaution, unfortunately...I've just met some of them. They're in a fury against Dumbledore-he won't let them inside the castle grounds."

"Ishould think not," said Professor McGonagall sharply. "How are we to teach with those floating horrors around?"

"Indeed," said Professor Kirkland. "You _do_ know that my boys are here as well, Minister. I _especially_ do not want those things around."

"All the same," demurred Fudge, "They are here to protect you all from something much worse...We all know what Black is capable of..."

"I don't want to keep relieving my past, Minister..." said Kirkland quietly.

"I know, Kirkland. I know," the official returned, almost sorrowfully.

"Do you know, I still have trouble believing it," said Madam Rosmerta thoughtfully. "Of all the people to go over to the Dark Side, Sirius Black was the last I'd have thought...I mean, I remember him as a boy at Hogwarts. If you'd told me what he'd become, I'd say you'd had too much mead."

"You don't even know the wort of it," Fudge said gruffly.

"What could be worse than murdering all those poor people?" Madam Rosmerta asked with morbid curiosity.

"You say you remember him at Hogwarts, Rosmerta," murmured Professor McGonagall. "Do you remember who his best friend was?"

"Naturally," Rosmerta responded with a small laugh. "They were always together. I had them here all the time-oh, how they would make me laugh. Him and James Potter were quite the double act, they were!"

Harry dropped his tankard with a loud clunk. Matthew kicked him.

"Indeed," McGonagall nodded. "Black and Potter were the ringleaders of their little gang. Both very bright, of course-I don't think we've ever had such a pair of troublemakers-"

"I dunno," Chuckled Hagrid. "Fred and George Weasley could give 'em a run for their money."

"Yes, yes," Fudge said impatiently. "Potter trusted Black above all others. Black was the best man at his and Lily's wedding. Potter even named the scoundrel as Harry's godfather! Harry has no idea, of course. The very idea would torment him."

"Because Black turned out to be in league with You-Know-Who?" whispered Madam Rosmerta.

McGonagall nodded, agreeing with Fudge's account. "You see, not many people are aware that Lily and James Potter knew they were marked for death by You-Know-Who. But Black _did_. So when they went into hiding, Black led the Dark Lord straight to them!"

"Not only that, but Black actually helped by _killing_ one of the Potters' friends, Peter Pettigrew!"

"The little lump of a boy, always trailing after the two while they were in school?" Rosmerta asked in a hushed tone.

"Yes," Fudge picked up again after taking a long drink from his glass. "Peter tried to warn the Potters, but Black headed him off. He didn't just kill him, he _destroyed_ him! A finger! All that was left-a finger!"

"He may not have laid a hand on the Potters," McGonagall said solemnly. "But he's the reason they're dead!"

"And I comforted him..." Hagrid rumbled angrily. "He came to me, a complete mess. I didn't know that he..." he broke off and slammed his giant fists onto the table. "THAT MURDERIN' TRAITOR!" the half-giant roared.

"Hagrid, ol' boy, _please_ keep your voice down!" Professor Kirkland said.

"And now he's back," Fudge said quietly. "To find Harry, and finish what he started."

There was a small chink of glass on wood. Someone had set down heir glass.

"You know, Cornelius, if you're dining with the headmaster, we'd better head back up to the castle," said Professor McGonagall.

One by one, the pairs of feet in front of Harry took the weight of their owners once more; hems of cloaks swung into sight, and Madam Rosmerta's glittering heels disappeared behind the bar. The door of the Three Broomsticks opened again, there was another flurry of snow, and the teachers had left the building.

"Harry?"

His friends' faces appeared under the table. No one spoke.

* * *

**Another chapter is completed. And this time something relevant to the plot happened! Yaay!**

**Thanks for all the favs, follows, and reviews guys. I appreciate every single one!**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	24. Chapter 24

Harry wasn't sure how he got back to the castle. He remembered standing up, saying he needed to leave...and then tripping over himself. Alfred's voice rang out in his memory.

_"You're in no condition...the passage is in the Honeydukes' cellar, right?"_

Harry sat up in his bed and wracked his brain. What happened next?...Oh, yes.

_"Do you need help?"_ Ron's voice echoed.

_"Nah...Go with Mattie."_

Harry remembered the odd sensation of being carried, his invisibility cloak withdrawn from his pocket and draped over them. Then rhythmic, echoing footsteps. Then nothing.

He groaned quietly and clutched his head, still shocked over what he had heard. The worst part was that no one bothered to _tell_ him. As if he couldn't handle the knowledge that his parents were dead because of their turncoat best friend!

His sigh seemed to echo throughout the empty dormitory. Harry swung his legs over the side of his bed and bent over, searching through his bedside table. A moment of shuffling through his books and he found what he was looking for.

A leather-bound photo album Hagrid had gifted him two years ago. Every page had wizard pictures of his mother and father. He flipped through it, resting on a picture of his parents' wedding day. There was his father waving up at him, beaming, the untidy black hair that Harry had inherited standing up in all directions. His father was arm in arm with his mother, her face alight with happiness. And there...

Harry scowled darkly at the page. The best man, Sirius Black. Harry had never given him a second glance before. What a stark contrast between this and his wanted poster. Here, his face was handsome and full of laughter, rather than sunken and waxy.

Had he already been working for Voldemort when this picture was taken? Was he _already_ planning the deaths of the two people next to him? The people who_ trusted_ him? Did he realize that he'd be facing twelve years in Azkaban that would render him nearly unrecognizable?

Harry shut the book with a snap and shoved it away. He laid down down on his side and brooded. Dementors don't affect this man. What kind of world was it, where Harry, who had done _nothing wrong_, was the one to hear his mother's screams when one gets to close?

The dormitory door opened.

"Harry?" said Matthew's voice uncertainly.

Harry lay still, pretending to be asleep. The door closed and soft footsteps approached Harry's bed. A creak signified Matthew sitting on the bed next to his. All was silent for a moment. "I know you're awake," Matthew finally stated.

Harry closed his eyes briefly and sighed. He should've known it would be futile. Almost _nothing_ got past the Canadian. "Don't you have classes?"

"Nice try," Matthew chuckled drily. "It's the first day of holidays, remember?"

Harry rolled onto his back and stared at his crimson bed hangings. "There's just no getting rid of you then, I guess."

The blond boy was silent. Harry sighed again. "Don't try to reassure me about anything. You heard everything, same as me; you know it's pointless."

Matthew remained silent for a moment longer as he thought. "...What does it change?"

Harry frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Well," Matthew said. "Your parents are still dead. There's no getting around that. Is knowing that Sirius Black, a man you only learned about this year, was involved going to fix that?"

Harry turned his head and studied the Canadian's intense violet eyes. "I...suppose you have a point." He clasped his hands over his chest. "They could've at least _told_ me though."

"To be honest, I can see why they didn't," Matthew answered with a mirthless chuckle. "Just look at yourself, wallowing in your own pity and yesterday's clothes!"

Harry sat up in his bed, putting a hand on his knee. "You sound a lot like your brother right now."

"No," the Canadian said with a small smile. "In this case, he'd be extremely blunt and tell you to get over it and say it's no big deal. Believe it or not, I'm being _nice_ about it."

Harry searched the blond for any hint of sarcasm or fakery. But he found none. Matthew was being one hundred percent earnest.

It was Harry's turn to chuckle as he looked around the empty dorm. "...What time is it?"

"Nearly lunchtime," Matthew answered, his smile growing wider. "But shower first, because I'm sorry to say that you stink."

The Gryffindor boy lurched to his feet and stepped around to his trunk. He dug out a change of clothes and toiletries and made his way to the shower. As he turned the cleansing water to scalding he came to a new resolution.

He wasn't going to feel bad for himself anymore. He was going to _do_ something about it. Sirius Black must not remain.

* * *

He trudged down to the common room feeling a bit more human than he had earlier. The place was empty save for the twins, Ron, and Hermione. What at first appeared to be a furry ginger rug in front of the fire turned out to be Crookshanks, spread out on the ground and basking in it's warmth. Snow was still falling outside, so he followed the cat's example and slumped into a chair by the fire.

"You don't look so well," Hermione stated matter-of-factly.

Harry squirmed under her scrutiny. "I'm fine."

"Just listen," the girl insisted. She and Ron exchanged a significant look. "You're probably rather upset about erm...yesterday. But..." she broke off and sagged her shoulders slightly.

"Don't do anything stupid, mate," Ron finished. "Don't go looking for him. Don't die for something this stupid."

Harry grimaced as he listened to the obviously rehearsed conversation. Didn't they understand?

"Did you know that I get to witness my mother's murder every time a Dementor gets too close?"Harry asked.

The looks of surprise on everyone's faces said that no, they did not. Harry continued, his voice not wavering. "Even if Black's caught, and sent back to Azkaban...it's not a punishment for him. Not really. They don't affect him for some reason."

"So what?" Ron demanded tensely. "You want to-to _kill_ Black?"

"Don't be silly," Hermione said in a quick, somewhat panicky manner. "Harry wouldn't do that. Right, Harry?"

The Gryffindor boy didn't know how to respond. All he knew was that he couldn't do nothing. He glanced towards Matthew, who maintained a neutral expression. Harry noticed Alfred being unusually quiet, his blue eyes had that...far away look in them again.

"What do you think, Alfred?" Harry called, snapping the American out of his thoughts.

Solemn cerulean eyes rested on him. "To kill a man...they ain't kiddin' when they say it's something that will follow you for the rest of your life. It doesn't matter wether you have a good reason or not; it permanently stains your very soul. You'll still have nightmares...You'll still have guilt. Do what you must, but don't choose lightly." He fell silent again, looking down at his hands in his lap.

Harry's train of thought was completely derailed. He stared at his mysterious friend. Where the hell did _that_ come from?

Hermione cleared her throat and spoke again, hesitatingly. "Black did a terrible-_terrible_ thing but...d-don't put yourself in danger. It's what Black wants and your parents...your parents wouldn't want you hurt. They'd never want you to go looking for Black!"

Harry focused on the cheery fire roaring in the fireplace. He wasn't sure _what_ to think anymore really. Matthew had a point in saying that the Professors had meant well by keeping this from him. Probably for this reason, too. Alfred also had a point. Was he really willing to go as far as..._killing_ Sirius Black? He didn't know.

Ron decided to change the subject before it could go any further. "Erm...how about we go to Hagrid's? We haven't been to see him in a while."

"No!" Hermione said quickly. "Harry isn't supposed to leave the castle, Ron-"

"Yeah!" Alfred exclaimed cheerfully. "Let's go do stuff!"

Everyone save for Matthew gave Alfred a strange look. He'd just gone from pensive and thoughtful back to his default of happy and fun-loving.

"Is your brother bi-polar, or something?" Ron asked Matthew as they gathered their cloaks for the trip to Hagrid's.

Matthew shrugged as he picked up his scarf. "No, he's just that way." He paused and shot the redhead a wry smile. "I'd have thought you'd be accustomed to it by now."

Hermione covered her small giggle with a cough while Harry shook his head. Those two...he didn't know about them sometimes.

* * *

The Forbidden Forest looked as though it had been enchanted. Each tree was smattered with silver, and Hagrid's cabin looked like an iced cake.

Ron knocked, but there was no answer.

"He's not out, is he?" Hermione asked as she shivered under her cloak.

Matthew put his ear to the door. "There's a weird noise," he said. "Like...a dog maybe?"

Harry and Hermione put their ears to the door too. From inside the cabin came a series of low, throbbing moans.

"Think we should get someone?" Ron asked nervously.

"No worries," Alfred said with a confident smile. "The hero will save the day!" He marched up to the door and banged on it with his fist. The poor piece of wood seemed to barely hang on with each impact as Alfred called through the door. "Yo, Hagrid! Ya in there, dude?"

There was a sound of heavy footsteps, then the door creaked open. Hagrid stood before them with red and swollen eyes. Tears splashed down the front of his leather vest.

"Yeh've heard?" he bellowed. With a great sob he flung himself onto Alfred's neck.

Harry marveled at the scene before him. Hagrid was at least twice the size of a normal man, and yet Alfred barely even rocked backwards as he patted the half-giant's back soothingly. "Come now," the American said softly. "Don't cry-no, don't you dare cry." He glanced towards his friends and pointed his chin subtly towards the cabin's interior.

Ron and Matthew caught the hint. They each seized Hagrid under an arm and heaved him back into the cabin. Hagrid allowed himself to be steered into a chair and slumped over the table, still sobbing uncontrollably. His face was glazed with tears that dripped down into his tangled beard.

"Hagrid, what_ is_ the matter?" Hermione asked, aghast.

Harry spotted an official looking letter lying open on the table. "What's this, Hagrid?" he inquired.

Hagrid's sobs redoubled. Harry picked the letter up and read aloud:

"Dear Mr. Hagrid,  
Further to our inquiry into the attack by a hippogriff on a student in your class, we have accepted the assurances of Professor Dumbledore that you bear no responsibility for the regrettable incident."

"Well, that's okay then, Hagrid!" said Ron clapping him on the shoulder. Much to his confusion though, Hagrid continued to sob. The big man waved one of his gigantic hands, inviting Harry to read on.

"However, we must register our concern about the hippogriff in question. We have decided to uphold the official complaint of Mr. Lucius Malfoy, and this matter will therefore be taken to the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. The hearing will take place on April 20th, and we ask you to present yourself and your hippogriff at the Committee's offices in London on that date. In the meantime, the hippogriff should be kept tethered and isolated.

Yours in fellowship..."  
The rest of the page was taken by a list of school governors.

"Oh..." Ron said. He wasn't sure what to say.

"But you said Buckbeak isn't a bad hippogriff," Matthew said reassuringly. "I think he'll get off-"

"Yeh don' know them gargoyles at the Committee fer the Disposal o' Dangerous Creatures!" Hagrid choked out. "They got it in fer interestin' creatures!"

A sudden sound from the corner of Hagrid's cabin made all five students whip around. None other than Buckbeak himself was lying in the corner, chomping on something that oozed blood all over the floor.

"I couldn' leave him tied up out there in the snow!" Hagrid exclaimed. "Imagine...all on his own...on Christmas!" His sobbing renewed even stronger than before.

The Gryffindors looked at one another. What Hagrid calls 'interesting creatures' would more be along the lines of 'terrifying monsters' to other people. On the other hand, there didn't seem to be any harm in Buckbeak.

This was further proved when Alfred crossed the small cabin and knelt down next to the majestic hybrid creature. Buckbeak crooned softly and nudged his head against Alfred's hand. Alfred beamed at him and began running his hands over the hippogriff's soft feather down. "Say..." the blond boy said. "Where did you get Buckbeak anyway?"

"Hm?" Hagrid paused in his mourning. "Well, you of all people should know! Hippogriffs are most common in America. Buckbeak's from Pennsylvania!"

"Oh?" the American said idly as he continued to stroke the feathers. he was silent for a moment before he shot to his feet. "Wait a minute!"

"What?" his friends asked simultaneously.

"We can save Buckbeak!" Alfred said excitedly. He began to pace the small space. "Arthur's high up-he can get the charges on Buckbeak dropped! In fact, I've seen him do stuff like that before...and since Buckbeak's from my-er-the United States, we'll just have him go home and everyone'll be happy!"

"Well..." Hagrid started, still unsure. "It's a big place...he'll be all alone..."

"I'll take care of him then," Alfred said resolutely. "You can even visit if you'd like. Plus there'll be more of his own kind around."

Hagrid was silent as he pondered this. Harry shook his shoulder a bit. "It'll be better than him dying, Hagrid. He'll be happy with Alfred, and you can visit anytime, he said so himself!"

Hagrid was silent for a moment more as he weighed his options. After a few minutes of deliberation, he nodded slowly. "Alright...but I maintain full visiting rights."

"Of course!" Alfred said enthusiastically.

* * *

Harry left Hagrid's Hut feeling significantly lighter. He had by no means forgotten about Sirius Black. But he was happy to hear that Buckbeak would be alright. Alfred _would_ take good care of him. Harry hadn't missed the hippogriff's oddly passive behavior around the American. Nor had he missed the American's oddly detached and contented behavior around the hippogriff. You just can't _fake_ that.

* * *

The castle was somehow magnificently decorated for Christmas by the next day, Christmas Eve. Harry was legitimately curious as to how anyone could move twelve giant Christmas trees into the great Hall in one night without anyone noticing. Thick streamers of holly and mistletoe were strung along the corridors, and mysterious lights shone from inside every suit of armor. The sent of delicious cooking had pervaded the corridors and by the end of the day, even Scabbers poked his nose out of the shelter of Ron's pocket to sniff hopefully at the air.

On Christmas morning, Harry was woken by Alfred and Ron taking turns abusing him with their pillows.

"Oy!" Ron practically yelled in Harry's ear. "Presents!"

If Ron woke him up, Alfred made sure he wasn't tired. "Imma throw you off the mattress on the count of three~!"

Harry scrambled from beneath his blankets and jumped off the bed, because Alfred probably wasn't kidding. He felt around his bedside table in the semi-darkness and found his glasses. As he placed them on the bridge of his nose, Harry happened to glance about two beds away from him. Matthew was still asleep, as was his pet bear. He was sure to point this out to Alfred.

Al smiled deviously as he stealthily approached Matthew's sleeping form. He poked Matthew, and waited. Getting no response, he sucked in a deep breath and burst into song.

"IIIII CAN'T GET 'EM UP,

I CAN'T GET 'EM UP,

I CAN'T GET 'EM UP THIS MOOOORNING;

I CAN'T GET 'EM UP

I CAN'T GET 'EM UP I CAN'T GET 'EM UP AT AAALL!"

Matthew stirred long enough to put a pillow over his ears. "Ugh, go _away_ Alfred."

Harry and Ron laughed as Alfred's smile somehow grew even wider.

"THE CORPORAL'S WORSE THAN THE PRIVATES,

THE SERGEANT'S WORSE THAN THE CORPORALS,

LIEUTENANT'S WORSE THAN THE SEEERGEANTS,

AND THE CAPTAIN'S WORST OF AAALL!"

The Canadian groaned again when the pillow proved insufficient as a noise canceler. His polar bear looked up at Alfred through one open eye with what something akin to irritation. Matthew groggily rose from his bed and rubbed his eyes.

"Merry Christmas," Ron chuckled. The blond gave the redhead a light glare as he rose from his bed. He swiped his things from his trunk and trudged off into the bathroom.

"What's with him?" Harry asked after the bathroom door shut.

"He haates that song," Alfred responded with a grin. "Especially when _I_ sing it, though I'm not sure why."

Matthew came back out of the bathroom fully dressed. "Those aren't even the correct _lyrics_!" he said exasperatedly. "Don't sing the Revielle if you can't sing it right."

"I have yet to meet someone who _hasn't_ changed the words in some way." Alfred retorted. He brought his hands together. "Anywho," he inclined his head towards the heap of parcels at the foot of each person's bed that hadn't been there before. "Presents, anyone?"

The four boys set to opening their presents. "Mattie, check out what Ge-ah, Lugwig sent!" He held up a small rectangle about five inches across that seemed to be made of polished silver.

Matthew looked up and studied the object for a moment. "Wow...I don't know much about them, honestly. But that one looks like a really nice one. Is there a card?"

Alfred nodded and read it aloud.

"Dear Alfred, this is for what you sent me through the post last week. You have my thanks; I will enjoy it immensely. PS: I've also forwarded your backlog of paperwork to Arthur. Sincerely, Ludwig."

"Paperwork?" Alfred frowned. "Guess I'll be having some late nights." His attention returned to the object as he brought it up to the light. "The craftsmanship on this is beautiful. _And_ it's chromatic!"

Matthew could be heard to elicit a soft exclamation as he looked into one of his presents. "Oh, my..." he withdrew what looked to be a ceramic box, beautifully painted with maple leaves. He ripped open the accompanying card and read aloud.

"Birdie, wondering you've been all year. Feliciano was nice enough to paint this it for me. Use the contents wisely. Merry Christmas, Sir Gilbert of everything awesome that exists."

Matthew opened the lid and looked inside. He gave a small smile and closed it again.

Ron looked into one of his presents with chagrin. "A maroon sweater from Mum...again." He turned towards Harry. "See if you got one too."

Harry did indeed get one. Mrs. Weasley had sent him a scarlet sweater with the Gryffindor lion knitted on the front, also a dozen home-baked mince pies, some Christmas cake, and a box of nut brittle.

"Duuuuude Kiku you are awesooome!" Alfred said enthusiastically. He held up a metallic blue square shaped thing that Harry recognized as a portable gaming system. "He says that he and Tony worked together on it and want me to test it!"

Matthew opened a bag and peeked into it discreetly. His face brightened as he turned to his brother. "Tino sends his regards to both of us with some 'bottled muggle magic'," he said cryptically.

Alfred seemed to understand immediately. "Cool beans, I've been itchin' for it since September."

Ron observed the tag on one of Alfred's discarded wrappings. "Your middle name is Franklin?"

Alfred looked at the tag with interest. "Now _that's_ a good idea..." he mumbled more to himself.

Harry noticed a long, thin package lying at the bottom of his pile.

"What's that?" Ron asked curiously, looking over a freshly unwrapped pair of Maroon socks in his hand.

"I don't know," Harry responded. He ripped the parcel open and gasped as a magnificent, gleaming broomstick rolled out onto his bedspread. Ron dropped his socks and jumped off his bed for a closer look. Alfred raised an eyebrow as he joined them and Matthew observed discreetly over his brother's shoulder.

"I don't believe it," Ron said hoarsely.

It was a Firebolt, identical to the broom Harry had seen in his dreams since he had glimpsed it in Diagon Alley. It's handle glittered as he picked it up. He could feel it vibrating in his hands, so he let it go. It hung in midair, unsupported, at exactly the right height for him to mount it. His eyes moved from the golden registration number at the top of the handle, down to the perfectly smooth, streamlines birch twigs that made up the tail.

"Who sent it?" Alfred asked, not particularly awe struck.

"Look to see if there's a card," Matthew suggested.

Ron eagerly ripped apart the Firebolt's wrappings. "Nothing!" Ron said after a moment. "Blimey, who'd spend that much on you?"

"I'm willing to bet it wasn't the Dursleys," Harry said, feeling stunned.

"Dumbledore, maybe? He strikes me as someone who'd do that. Didn't you say he the was the one to send you the Invisibility Cloak?

"That was my Dad's, though," Harry responded. "Dumbledore was just passing it on to me. He wouldn't spend hundreds of Galleons on me. He can't go giving students stuff like this-"

"That's why he wouldn't say ir was from him!" Ron reasoned. "In case some git like Malfoy said it was favoritism."

"It kind of _would_ be-" Matthew started quietly. He was cut off when Ron gave a great whoop of laughter.

"Oh, _Malfoy_! Wait till he sees you on this!" Ron exclaimed. "He'll be sick as a pig! This is an _international_ standard broom, this is!"

"I can't believe this," Harry muttered, running a hand along the Firebolt, while Ron sank onto Harry's bed, laughing his head off at the thought of Malfoy's reaction.

"Maybe it was Lupin," Alfred suggested thoughtfully. "He was gone when your other broom got destroyed. He might've heard about it and decided to visit Diagon Alley to get this for you-"

"Wait, wait, wait," Harry said. "First of all, Lupin can barely afford his own robes. Secondly, how could he have been away? He was ill when I was playing the match."

'Well, he wasn't in the hospital wing," Alfred responded confusedly. "I cleaned out bedpans that day, remember?"

Harry frowned at the American. "Even if he _was_ out, he still wouldn't afford this."

The door suddenly opened to reveal Hermione in her dressing gown, carrying a rather glum looking Crookshanks. "What're you two laughing about?" she asked curiously.

"Don't bring him in here!" Ron cried, hurriedly snatching Scabbers from the depths of his bed and stowing him in his pajama pocket.

Hermione wasn't listening. She dropped her cat onto Matthew's bed next to Kumajiro and stared, open-mouthed, at the Firebolt.

"_Harry_," she said in a hushed voice. "Who sent you _that_?"

Harry shrugged as he continued to caress his broom. "No idea...There was no card."

Hermione did not appear excited or intrigued by the news. On the contrary, her face fell and she bit her lip worriedly.

"What?" Alfred asked at her expression.

"Well..." She paused, as if not quite sure what to say. "This broom must have been really expensive," she said slowly. "Isn't it a bit odd that someone would sink that much into a broom and not even tell Harry that they'd sent it?"

Ron waved off her concerns. "Oh, who cares?" He turned towards Harry excitedly. "Can I have a go on it? Can I?"

"No one ride that broom!" Matthew exclaimed suddenly.

Everyone's heads snapped to stare at the usually shy Canadian. "Why not?" Ron demanded. "What else is he to do with it-sweep the floor?"

Matthew shook his head violently. "No, no. I think I know where Hermione's going with this...what if-" he was cut off when Crookshanks practically jumped over him and right at Ron's chest.

The orange cat's claws ripped his pajamas as Scabbers attempted a wild escape over Ron's shoulder. Ron seized Scabbers by the tail and aimed a misjudged kick at Crookshanks that hit the trunk at the end of Harry's bed, knocking it into Alfred's knees and making the American stumble over it a bit.

"GET THAT CAT OUT OF HERE!" Ron howled furiously as his toe made contact with the heavy trunk.

On top of everything, Kumajiro apparently decided it would be a perfect time to join the fun. He leapt off the bed and pounced at Scabbers, who was skittering across the floor and trying to get away from the commotion and the cat. The rat dodged and tried to go the other direction, only to be faced by Crookshanks, who was hissing and spitting in a rage. Kumajiro growled and swiped a paw at the rat. The rat jigged left and hissed, baring yellow, jagged teeth.

Ron snatched his pet off the ground and shooed the polar bear away. "You go away!" he spat angrily.

The bear looked up at him impassively for a moment, before huffing and trudging off to his previous spot on Matthew's bed. Hermione scooped up Crookshanks and strode out of the room, scolding it.

Matthew sat down next to his bear and stroked it's white fur. "What was that all about?" he asked almost to quietly to be heard.

The bear's response was mostly covered by a groan of pain from Ron, who was bemoaning the state of his toe's nerve endings. "It...strange...different..." was all Harry caught.

Ron clutched Scabbers close to his chest, giving Harry an opportunity to study it closer. He was unpleasantly surprised to see that the rat had lost and unhealthy amount of weight, and patches of grey fur seemed to have fallen off. "He's not looking to good, is he?" Harry observed.

"It's the stress!" Ron insisted. "He'd be fine if that stupid furball Hermione calls a pet would just leave him alone!"

Harry nodded vaguely, afraid to voice his suspicions. He remembered hearing somewhere that rats only lived about three years. He couldn't help feeling that Scabbers was quickly approaching the end of his life. And despite Ron's frequent complaints that Scabbers was useless and boring, he was sure Ron would be absolutely miserable in the event of his death.

* * *

Christmas spirit was definitely rather sparse in the Gryffindor common room that morning. Hermione was furious that Ron had tired to kick Crookshanks. Ron was angry at both her and Matthew for their pets trying to eat Scabbers. Hermione and Ron were giving each other the cold shoulder.

Ron wasn't talking to Matthew either, but the Canadian didn't seem terribly affected by it. In fact, Alfred looked like the one who was the most irritated at Ron's behavior. It was always either all or nothing with those two. An insult to one brother was an insult to both. So, the twins weren't talking to Ron or Hermione, and Hermione wasn't talking to Ron.

Harry felt stuck in the middle. He gave up on trying to get them to talk to each other and devoted himself to examining the Firebolt, which he had brought down into the common room with him. This seemed to annoy Hermione, who kept shooting dark looks at the thing as though it too was angry at her cat.

The twins left after the tension became too much. This reminded the three who remained that they were brothers _long_ before they were friends here.

* * *

**Another chapter has been posted here, to balance out the two I put for the other one. Balances out, doesn't it?**

**Virtual cookies for anyone who can guess what Alfred got. It's based on a headcannon of mine. :P**

**Thanks for reading, reviewing, favoriting, and following! It's awesome like Prussia.**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	25. Chapter 25

Lunchtime came, so the trio went down to the Great Hall. The House tables had been moved against the walls, leaving room for a significantly smaller table, set for fifteen, in the middle of the room. Professors Dumbledore, Kirkland, McGonagall, Snape, Sprout, and Flitwick were there, along with Filch, the caretaker, who had traded his usual brown coat for a rather moldy looking tailcoat. Five other students were already there. Two extremely nervous looking first years and a sullen-faced Slytherin fifth year, along with Alfred and Matthew.

"Merry Christmas!" Dumbledore said cheerily as Harry, Ron, and Hermione approached the table. "There are so few of us, so I thought it would be rather foolish to use the House tables." The trio sat down together at one end.

The twins were actually sitting closest to Professor Kirkland, who didn't seem to mind. Although he did take the time to correct Alfred's grammar, much to the American's chagrin.

"Dude, could you pass the cookies?" Alfred asked.

Kirkland looked down his nose disapprovingly at the boy. "They're called _biscuits_."

"Biscuits aren't even the same thing!" Alfred shot back angrily.

"God, you _always_ do this. Like for the word 'trolley'. A trolley is _not_ a tram!"

"A trolley isn't a shopping cart either, weirdo," the American retorted.

"'Shopping cart' shouldn't even _exist_ in English!" the professor said obstinately. "And for that matter, it's _my_ language! En-gl-ish from En-gl-and!"

"I'm speaking _American_ English. From Am-er-i-ca!" Alfred ground out. "Besides, no matter what you say, it's not a pure language. I don't hear you going 'thou' or 'doth' anymore now, do I?"

"My English still makes more sense than yours!" Kirkland yelled. Their argument had raised in volume to where the whole table couldn't help but hear it.

"Riiiight. Remember the cab driver incident?" the Gryffindor boy smirked at Kirkland's expression. "Yeah, you do! What was it you said? _'Gawdon Bennet! That's not right i'was practically around da corner! Thee must be overchargin' me!'_ What the hell is a 'Gawdon Bennet!?'"

"Well you're one to talk! I caught you in Texas saying ridiculous things like, _'Ya'll got the brit fixin' tuh have a conniption fit if ya don' stop. I know yer all big hat, no cattle anyway.'" _Kirkland was sure to drag out his vowels mockingly and make it as goofy as possible. He returned to his regular accent. "There is _so_ much wrong with that sentence I don't even know where to begin! So you can just belt up about that, you yankee-redneck!"

"Shut up! A yankee is not a redneck! They are _completely_ different."

"All the same to me!"

The argument got increasingly ridiculous and nonsensical. Dumbledore was watching with an incredible amount of amusement, which would explain why he hadn't stopped it yet. Flitwick and Sprout were doing their best to ignore it, and Snape just looked on disapprovingly. Mcgonagall reached over smacked them both upside the head, effectively shutting them up.

"I don't know care how you conduct yourselves at home," the stern professor scolded. "But you will both keep civil tongues in your head while you're here!" She huffed and straightened her robes, returning to her meal.

The meal went uninterrupted for the next few minutes. Alfred jumped as he reacted to something under the table. He shot Professor Kirkland a covert dirty look. A few minutes later, the green eyed teacher yelped, his elbow hitting the edge of the table and making it shake. Matthew leaned over and said something to his brother, who gave a small sheepish smile in response.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, earning the undivided attention of the entire table. He picked up a noisemaker off the table. "Crackers!" he said almost childishly, offering the large silver end to Snape. The Potions Master sighed and reluctantly pulled it. The thing released it's contents with a sound akin to a gunshot. Much to Snape's dismay, the contents of this particular one happened to be a pointy hat topped with a stuffed vulture.

Harry and Ron exchanged grins, remembering the boggart. Snape's mouth thinned and he pushed the ridiculous hat towards Dumbledore, who swapped it for his own wizard's hat at once. "Dig in!" he exclaimed, beaming all around.

Harry was helping himself to roasted potatoes, when the Great Hall's doors opened again. Professor Trelawney walked in, clad in a green sequined dress to honor the occasion.

"Sibyll, this is a pleasant surprise!" Dumbledore said, standing up.

"I have been crystal gazing, Headmaster," said Professor Trelawney in her mistiest most faraway voice, "and to my astonishment, I saw myself abandoning my solitary luncheon and coming to join you. I at once hastened from my tower, I do beg you to forgive my lateness..."

"Certainly," Dumbledore said amiably, his eyes twinkling. "Let me draw you up a chair-"

He literally drew a chair in midair with his wand, which resolved for a few seconds before falling with a slight clatter between Kirkland and McGonagall. Professor Trelawney did not sit down immediately. Her enormous eyes rested on Kirkland, Alfred, and Matthew in turn.

"Such old souls...you have all seen so much..." she finally sat down, her eyes never moving from Professor Kirkland, who looked incredibly uncomfortable. "I feel most drawn to you though...tea and rain...ocean water..."

Hermione, who was the last to give Trelawney of all people the benefit of the doubt _ever_, was leaning forward with interest. And even Dumbledore looked like he was paying attention as he cut his ham into pieces.

Trelawney tore her eyes away from Kirkland and peered closely Alfred and Matthew. "...wheat fields and maple trees...interesting."

Matthew coughed and focused on his plate, while Alfred settled for looking at her like one would a rabid dog.

"Would you _please_ pass the gravy?" McGonagall finally asked impatiently. She was having none of this.

"Hm?" Trelawney seemed to snap out of whatever trance she was in. Her voice was significantly less distant as she said, "Yes, of course." She did as McGonagall asked. Doing this gave her the opportunity to look around the table. "Where is dear Professor Lupin?"

"I'm afraid that the poor fellow is ill again," Dumbledore said. "Most unfortunate that it should happen on Christmas Day."

"But surely you already knew that, Sibyll?" McGonagall said with her eyebrows raised.

"Certainly, Minerva," Trelawney said a bit coldly. "One does not parade the fact that they are All-Knowing. I frequently act as though I am not possessed of the Inner Eye, so as not to make others nervous."

"Explains a lot," Ron muttered. Harry smothered a snicker in his napkin.

"If you must know, Minerva, I have seen that poor Professor Lupin will not be with us for very long. He seems aware, himself, that his time is short. He positively fled when I offered to crystal gaze for him-"

"Imagine that," Professor McGonagall said drily.

"I doubt," Professor Dumbledore interjected cheerfully, putting an end to the conversation before it could go any farther. "that Professor Lupin is is any immediate danger. Severus, you've made the potion for him again?"

"Yes, Headmaster," said Snape. Harry thought he sounded rather preoccupied.

"Then he should be up and about in no time...Derek, have you had any of these chipolatas? They're excellent."

The first year boy turned a furious shade of red at being addressed directly by Dumbledore, and took the platter of sausages with shaking hands.

Professor Trelawney behaved almost normally to the end of the meal, two hours later. Full to bursting with Christmas dinner and still wearing their party hats, Harry and Ron got up first from the table to leave.

"Coming?" Harry asked, seeing that Hermione hadn't rose from the table.

"No," Hermione muttered. "I need a quick word with McGonagall and Trelawney."

"Probably trying to see if she can take any more classes," yawned Ron as they made their way into the entrance hall, which was completely empty save for them.

"With Trelawney?" Harry scoffed. "As if."

* * *

Later, everyone except Hermione had reunited in common room. Matthew surprised them by sitting right near them. Ron initiated a conversation, about Harry's new Firebolt, of course. Apparently he's gotten over his little grudge against Matthew about Kumajiro. Matthew acted as if nothing had happened that morning, and Alfred started talking to them again as a result, seeing that his brother was okay with it.

Harry smiled to himself as he admired his broomstick. Looks like things had returned to normal with his friends. His hopeful thoughts were interrupted by the portrait hole swinging open. None other than Professor McGonagall swept in, followed by Hermione, who walked around them, sat down, and picked up the nearest book, hiding her face with it.

"So that's it, is it?" Professor McGonagall said, walking over to the fireside and staring at the Firebolt. "Miss Granger has just informed me that you have been sent a broomstick, Potter."

Harry and Ron looked around at Hermione. They could see her forehead reddening over the top of her book, which was upside down. Alfred and Matthew watched the scene with twin expressions of impassiveness. It was a bit disconcerting, actually.

"May I?" said Professor McGonagall, but she didn't wait for an answer before pulling the Firebolt away fro them. She examined it carefully from handle to twig-ends. "Hmm. And there was no note? No card? No message of any kind?"

"No," Harry said blankly.

"I see..." she studied it for a moment more. "Well, I'm afraid I will have to take this, Potter."

"W-what?" Harry said, scrambling to his feet. "Why?"

"It will need to be checked for jinxes," Professor McGonagall answered almost apologetically. "Of course, I'm no expert, but I daresay Madam Hooch and Professor Flitwick will strip it down-"

"Strip it _down_?" Ron repeated, as though the Professor were completely mad.

"You will have it back in a few weeks time, when we are sure it hasn't been tampered with," McGonagall said.

"There's nothing wrong with it!" Harry insisted, his voice shaking slightly. "Honestly Professor-"

"You can't be sure of that until you've flown it," McGonagall said kindly. "And since that's out of the question, this is how it must be. I shall keep you informed." With that, she turned on her heel and carried the Firebolt out of the portrait hole.

Harry stood, staring after her, completely devastated. The _best_ and most meaningful Christmas gift he'd ever gotten...taken away.

Ron rounded on Hermione angrily. _"What did you go running to McGonagall for?"_

Hermione's face was still red as she lowered the book and stood up defiantly. "Because-and McGonagall agrees with me-that broom was probably sent by _Sirius Black_!" She turned and marched up the stairs.

* * *

Hermione crashed onto her bed in the girls' dormitory, absolutely refusing to cry. Couldn't they look past their Quidditch obsession for a moment and _see_? God, how could anyone be so bloody thick? Now Harry and Ron hate her because she was trying to keep Harry from getting killed!

Although...Matthew seemed to be of similar opinion, even if he hadn't said anything. At least _he_ wasn't being so immature about it...

Come to think of it, he's never had a single moment of boyish immaturity, despite his age. When they talked...it was like she was talking to a _professor_ almost. She thought back to what she had spoken to Trelawney about.

_Hermione steeled herself for what she felt was _probably_ a waste of time. But she had her suspicions...as did Trelawney, apparently. "Professor?"_

_The cooky woman looked down at the Gryffindor girl in minor surprise. She knew of Hermione's opinion of her. "Yes, dear?"_

_Hermione looked around to be sure no one would hear. "I'm investigating Professor Kirkland. I was hoping you had some idea about...him."_

_Trelawney cocked her head, much like a small bird would. "You and the entire staff apparently."_

_"Oh?" Hermione frowned. "Is he an object of suspicion among the faculty?"_

_"He just...came out of nowhere. He claims to have been to Hogwarts, but no one remembers him." Her voice gained a misty and detached quality. "And there's a certain..._something_ about him..."_

_Hermione resisted the urge to snap her fingers. She did not come here for a prophecy! Instead she tried to advance the conversation further. "Is there anything ah..._material_ you can give me? Something I can work with?"_

_Trelawney peered at Hermione through her owlish glasses. "Poor dear...you just have no future in Divinations...that much I can see. But...you work well with books, I understand..."_

_Hermione leaned forward slightly in anticipation._

_"Something I read once...and an old legend I've heard...look for 'Are They Real: Disputed Beings And Their Possible Whereabouts'. I sense that it is still in the Library."_

_Hermione nodded, surprised at getting an actual _clue_ from the spacey teacher. "Thank you, Professor."_

Hermione wondered what she would find in that book, and what it could possibly have to do with anything. She glanced at the small clock on her bedside table. It wasn't curfew yet...she had time to make a trip to the Library.

Of course, she could _make_ time if she needed to.

* * *

**Another chapter! And this one was kinda hard to write...I wasn't sure about how to go about the Christmas Dinner bit...but I managed.**

**Thank you all for reviewing, following, and favoriting! It's greatly appreciated.**

**Later dudes ^J^**


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